68 HUNTERS OF THE GREAT NORTH 



But now I was face to face with a winter of nothing 

 but fish — fish without salt or tea or anything else. The 

 gasoline flour would soon give out if we ate any of it. 

 The Eskimos had about half enough tea to last the winter. 

 They were exceedingly fond of tea and I did not care 

 for it, so that from the first I voluntarily left that all to 

 them and lived on fish and w T ater. There are no more 

 A hospitable people in the world than the Eskimos, and 

 they never allowed a meal to pass without trying to coax 

 me into drinking tea. But as the taste had no attraction 

 for me, I was easily able to resist. I always did prefer 

 water to any concocted drink. 



As to the absence of salt, that was due to an oversight. 

 Had I thought of asking for it, Harrison would have 

 given me some before he left. One reason why I did 

 not ask him may have been my subconscious idea that 

 I could secure salt by boiling down sea water. At 

 Shingle Point this was ordinarily not possible, because 

 the ocean was not salty. However, there was an occa- 

 sional westerly gale which brought the salt ocean to 

 Shingle Point. On such occasions I took potfuls of brine 

 and boiled it down to a thick scum on the bottom of the 

 pot. Thereby I learned some chemistry, for the taste 

 was not particularly sally. It was rather bitter, for (as 

 the chemists tell us) the sea contains a great many 

 strong tasting substances besides ordinary table salt. 



I used to write pages in my diary about my troubles 

 with the fish diet, and a continual refrain was that it 

 would not be so bad if I only had salt. I used to get up 

 early in the morning and go hunting inland. To meet 

 a caribou that had wandered down from the mountains 

 l less than one chance in a hundred; although I 

 hunted day after day I nev< r saw a caribou or sign of 



