HUNTING WHITE WHALES 



When the canoe was lifted over the side, we slid away 

 from the yawl, out of the harbor, and into the upper 

 end of the tide rip, with hardly a sound save the 

 drip of water from the paddle blades. On the gun- 

 wale in front rested the end of the heavy shotgun 

 loaded with a lead ball, and at the right lay the slen- 



"A big white fellow slipped under only a hundred feet away, 

 headed directly for us." 



der harpoon, the line neatly coiled and fastened to 

 a bulky cedar float. 



We had hardly three hundred yards to paddle and 

 in a few moments were in the midst of the whales, the 

 short, metallic puffs as they spouted sounding on 

 every side. There were many young animals in the 

 school, their brownish bodies showing in striking con- 

 trast to the snowy backs of the old ones, and we drifted 

 quietly among them, waiting to pick our specimen. 

 It was a sore temptation as whale after whale passed 

 close beside us, and time and again I sighted along 



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