222 



ON SNOW-SHOES TO THE BARREN GROUNDS 



By the time I had sent the cartridge home, running 

 meanwhile, I got over the ridge, and was just drawing a 

 bead on the galloping musk-ox, when two shots in quick- 

 succession turned it staggering, and as it dropped I sent a 

 bullet where it would do the most good just as Echeena 

 and one dog came running down from a ridge opposite. 

 So that I and Echeena had the honor of scoring the first 

 and second musk-ox. Then I went back over the ridge to 

 look at the one I had brought down. It was a cow. The 

 sex was a disappointment, to be sure, and I should not 

 take this head that had cost me so much to secure; but 

 nothing could dull the joy of having, after a tramp of 

 (about) twelve hundred miles, killed the most inaccessible 

 beast in the whole wide world. 



After I had made sure the musk-cow was really dead, I 

 started again and to the north, hoping I might get on the 

 track of the other two or some other stragglers from the 

 main herd. Probably I went several miles farther, buoyed 

 up by the excitement of my success, but saw the tracks 

 of no living thing. 



The sun was setting as I turned around to go back to 

 my musk-cow, where I supposed the Indians would bring 

 up sledges and camp, and I had walked some time when 

 I realized that, other than going south, I had not the re- 

 motest idea in what precise direction I was travelling, or 

 just where that musk-cow lay. I could not afford to 

 waste any time or lose myself, for I had no capote, and 

 the wind I was now facing had frozen my perspiration- 

 soaked shirts as stiff and hard as boards. So I turned 

 about and puzzled out my always half and sometimes 

 wholly obliterated snow-shoe tracks back to where I had 

 gone in my continued search for musk-oxen, and from 

 thence back to my fallen quarry, where I arrived about 

 nine o'clock, to find, sure enough, the lodge pitched, 



