JOHANNES IN A STORM 



runner. "Taimak" (that will do), they said, and 

 moved away to get the dogs ready. In a few 

 minutes they were lighting their pipes for another 

 start, and we bumped and slid and twisted down 

 the river as if nothing had happened. I noticed 

 that Julius kept the sound runner towards the 

 boulders, as if he hardly cared to put the patched 

 one to any strain, but we jolted over the ridges and 

 raced down the slopes in quite an ordinary way, and 

 made the descent of the pass to the sea-ice in average 

 time. 



For an hour or two after leaving the mountains 

 we enjoyed fine weather, but as the afternoon wore 

 on [and the sun sank the wind began to follow us 

 again. The air had a queer threatening chill in it ; 

 little eddies of snow came whirling along the floor, 

 whisking round us and poking up our sleeves and 

 down our necks, and the dogs dropped their tails 

 and huddled together and whined as they ran. 

 Within half-an-hour we were in the thick of the 

 drift, and I found that running before a storm is 

 no more pleasant than facing it. Johannes, who 

 was sitting by me, pulled his sealskin dicky over 

 him, and shouted " Ananaulungitok-ai " (this is not 

 nice), and I shouted my " Ahaila " back at him with 

 some little apprehension ; I knew that it is some- 

 thing out of the ordinary that makes an Eskimo 

 driver put on sealskins over his blanket and calico, 

 but the men always had a word of explanation for 

 me. " All right," shouted Johannes, " very cold now : 

 get to Nain soon," and then he turned his back 

 the wind, and sat drumming on the runners wit] 

 his feet to let the dogs think that the driver ha< 

 his eye on them. As a matter of fact the 



186 



