Io6 AN ESKIMO VILLAGE 



Now my story leads me to the bitter weeks of 

 January, when the storms raged and the snow lay 

 deep and hard. It was a trying time for the people, 

 but they were not cast down ; with all the good 

 humour of the real Eskimo they sought their daily 

 food. They drove their dog-teams to the woods and 

 fetched back trees, and the frozen beach became a 

 vast field of sawing and chopping. Piles of planks 

 and mounds of firewood lay upon the snow, and 

 while the men sawed and chopped the boys and 

 women dragged heaped sledges to the store and sold 

 their wood for food and clothing. But in spite of all 

 that the store-house and the Mission could provide, 

 the people lacked their native food. There were no 

 seals, no skins for boots and clothing, and, worst of 

 all, no blubber to be eaten on those bitter days. 



The men began to feel the cold^men who were 

 used to sleeping in the snow and driving dogs 

 through blizzards, and to w^hom the winter cold of 

 Labrador had never before brought a shiver but 

 still there were brave fellows who went out in the 

 bleak hours of the dawn to spy for seals at the edge 

 of the ocean ice. But, alas ! the seals had flocked 

 some other way ; in the wonted channels there were 

 none. I warrant that the dogs eyed the sea with 

 hungry looks on those cold mornings ; poor things, 

 they looked in vain for proper food to keep them 

 strong. They grew gaunt and pinched, and had 

 much ado to haul their daily sledges. And some- 

 times, alas 1 one dog must be killed to make a meal 

 for the rest ! Those were hard times for the village, 

 and yet, you know, the Eskimo is a cheery soul. 



