PREFACE 



Little John is a middle-aged Eskimo ; a squarely 

 built, shaggy-headed little man, a clever hunter, 

 and hard enough to be well and happy among all 

 the hard weather and rough raw food of an Eskimo 

 village. John drove my dog-sledge in the winter ; 

 he was a famous builder of snow houses, and the 

 most wonderful pathfinder I ever saw. 



Once upon a time we were camped in a tiny snow 

 house of his building, and with much labour because 

 of the frosty air and the thick gloves I wore I was 

 writing with my pencil in a notebook. John puffed 

 at his pipe and watched me. 



" What are you writing ?" said he. 



" I am writing about this journey," said I. 



" Why do you not write about our village ?" said 

 John. 



And so, because of what little John said, I have 

 taken my pen and am writing about our village. 



