GREENLAND BY THE POLAR SEA 



we had to push on. For when one has many dogs requiring 

 food it is considered good manners to leave the camps early. 

 By noon of the same day we had started for the camp of 

 Ulugssat on Northumberland Island. 



The camps in this district generally consist of from three 

 to five little stone houses ; consequently, when occasionally one 

 comes to a place with ten or twelve houses an impression of 

 crowdedness is created akin to that felt by the countryman when 

 he visits the capital. Up here we are so accustomed to expect 

 nothing out of the ordinary that an uncommonly large town 

 like this quite overwhelms us. Along the fronts of the houses 

 we see everywhere stagings built of snow-blocks, covered with 

 lovely fresh walrus meat, flaming red against the white snow. 



The dogs of the camp were all tethered in a row, team 

 behind team, on the ice-foot, and they gave vent to savage yelps 

 at our arrival. According to the old traditions, which demand 

 of the visiting sledge parties a polite reserve, we all stopped on 

 the sea-ice, some distance from the ice-foot. On land, the 

 Eskimos were standing by the houses, looking down at us 

 silently but interestedly. In accordance with the custom of 

 the country, long minutes passed before both parties gave vent 

 to their joy over the reunion. 



At Ulugssat it was easy to find quarters, for our hosts vied 

 with each other in their invitations to us. Before we went in 

 to see to our own comfort, however, all teams which were to 

 take part in the long journey were given a thoroughly good 

 feed from the abundant meat stores of our hosts. This was 

 really great extravagance, as ordinarily the dogs are only fed 

 every second day. But one permits oneself such extravagances 

 when one is going out on an expedition. 



The houses of Ulugssat were of all dimensions. There was 

 the big Tornge's palace, in which the interior was divided into 

 two benches with a sleeping capacity for at least twenty — a 

 comfortable room, entirely lined with wood, and festively 

 illuminated by three brilliant train-oil lamps. Delicious meat 

 and glossy narwhal skin were temptingly laid out on platforms of 

 flat stones built for this purpose near the lamps. Such was the 

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