A Musk -Ox Hunt. 321 



We had hardly gone a mile in this harum-scarum chase before it 

 became evident that the musk-oxen were but a short distance ahead, 

 on the keen run, and the foremost hunters began loosening their 

 dogs to bring the oxen to bay as soon as possible ; and then, for the 

 first time, these intelligent creatures gave tongue in deep, long bay- 

 ing, as they shot forward like arrows and disappeared over the 

 crests of the hills, amidst a perfect bewilderment of flying snow and 

 fluttering harness traces. The discord of shouts and howlings told us 

 plainly that some of the animals had been brought to bay not far dis- 

 tant, and we soon heard a rapid series of sharp reports from the 

 breech-loaders and magazine guns of the advanced hunters. We 

 white men arrived just in time to see the final struggle. The oxen 

 presented a most formidable-looking appearance, with their rumps 

 firmly wedged together, a complete circle of swaying horns presented 

 to the front, with great blood-shot eyeballs glaring like red-hot shot 

 amidst the escaping steam from their panting nostrils, and pawing 

 and plunging at the circle of furious dogs that encompassed them. 

 The rapid blazing of magazine guns right in their faces — so close, 

 often, as to burn their long, shaggy hair — added to the striking scene. 

 Woe to the overzealous dog that was unlucky enough to get his 

 harness-line under the hoofs of a charging and infuriated musk-ox ; 

 for they will follow up a leash along the ground with a rapidity and 

 certainty that would do credit to a tight-rope performer, and either 

 paw the poor creature to death or fling him high in the air with 

 their horns. 



Although we tired and panting white men rested where the first 

 victims fell, Too-loo-ah, my best hunter, — an agile, wiry young 

 Iwillik Eskimo qf about twenty-six, with the pluck and endurance of 

 a blooded horse, — and half the dogs, pressed onward after the scat- 

 tered remnants of the herd, and succeeded in killing two more after 

 a hard run for three miles. The last one he would probably not 

 have overtaken if the swiftest dog, Parseneuk, had not chased him to 

 the edge of a steep precipice. Here a second's hesitation gave the dog 

 a chance to fasten on the ox's heels, and the next moment Parseneuk 

 making an involuntary aerial ascent, which was hardly finished 

 before Too-loo-ah had put three shots from his Winchester carbine into 

 the brute's neck and head, whereupon the two animals came to earth 

 together, — Parseneuk on the soft snow at the bottom of the twenty- 

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