PUNTING ON THE ICE 



it, but it was too wobbly, and time after time he 

 only just escaped a ducking by great agility ; at last 

 he squatted on it tailorwise, balancing himself with 

 his long two-handed " pautik " (paddle), and steered to 

 and fro among the floating ice with all the skill and 

 grace of the practised kajak man. 



After the ice has broken and gone, the Eskimo 

 boy becomes a sailor. He borrows a boat, and 

 hoists the sail, and fares forth before the wind for 

 the sheer joy of beating back against it. It some- 

 times seemed a reckless game, for I have seen little 

 fellows of six and seven, with a calico dicky hoisted 

 on an oar to catch the wind, tacking to and fro 

 against a breeze that made the little boat heel over 

 on its side ; but they are knowing fellows, and very 

 rarely come to grief in spite of their daring. 



The mastery of a boat seems to be another of 

 their inborn gifts ; indeed, one of our very occasional 

 visitors at Okak told me that among the many 

 people he had seen he had never met with boatmen 



excel the Eskimos. 



If the wind drops, the boys use the oars, and use 

 3m strongly, too : it seems hardly believable, but 

 mere babies have the knack of rowing. Little 

 Abraha, next door to us, was often on the water 

 ;by himself before he was three, standing up because 

 'his legs were too short for him to get a grip if he 

 ! sat, and tugging away at the pair of little oars. It 

 is strange to me that these children do not learn to 

 swim ; they are on the water every day throughout 

 ! the summer, and dabbling in it when they are not 

 on it, and yet only a few can swim a stroke. It 

 is the only way in which their childish energy seems 



wasted, though probably swimming does not strike 



97 G 



