MY BOX 



Eskimo drivers always look askance at any 

 unusual load. They expect to take food and sleep- 

 ing-bags and a box of clothing ; but to take a big box 

 besides was something new. Hence their remarks. 



I once made my drivers almost protest. We 

 halted for a night at a trading station, and after 

 a pleasant evening in the storekeeper's room the 

 good man, our host, askjd me to take on a small 

 box for a friend of his at the next post. 



" It is only a small box," he said, " and will not 

 take up much room." 



I assented willingly, and thought no more of it. 



My drivers looked at me rather reproachfully in 

 the morning when the small box was brought out. 

 It was "only a small box," but it was a box of 

 gun cartridges, and weighed like lead. They did not 

 say anything, but I can imagine their thoughts as 

 the day wore on. 



It was a pleasure to travel with the same two 

 drivers because they got so entirely used to one 

 another. They worked together like two parts of a I 

 machine. 



There are plenty of thrills on a sledge journey, j 

 and coasting downhill is one of them. As soon as i 

 we began to descend, the drivers moved to the front 

 of the sledge, and sat one on each side. Their main 

 concern seemed to be to keep the sledge from run- 

 ning away. They dug their heels into the snow, and 

 tugged and shoved to keep the track; and all the 

 while they were yelling and screaming at the dogs, 

 which raced on in front in a frightened effort to get 

 out of the way. 



As the pace grew faster the drivers put on the 

 brakes. 



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