l62 MY ARCTIC JOURNAL 



day, and in the fury of the storm, just after midnight, the 

 tide-gage fell over. My constant thought is of the advance 

 party. God help them if they are caught in such a storm on 

 ice that is not suitable for building igloos. As the days wear 

 on I feel as if the chances were almost even as to whether I 

 shall ever see my husband again. I can do nothing, not even 

 keep still. Perhaps it is a good thing that I am obliged to do 

 the work about the house. 



Our boys have been improving the time by gathering up 

 collections of various kinds, and the doctor has been especially 

 busy trading for any and every thing in the way of native 

 clothing, implements, and toys, for all of which he gives 

 pieces of boards, barrel-staves, boxes, and other odds and 

 ends in the lumber line, all worthless to us, but invaluable to 

 the poor Eskimos. Wood is to them their most precious 

 article, for without it they could neither have boats nor 

 sledges, nor would they be able to fashion those perfect 

 instruments of the chase, the harpoon and spear, which they 

 handle with unsurpassed dexterity. Yet wood is also their 

 scarcest article, and is obtained only from wreckage or through 

 occasional barter with whalers passing near Cape York. A 

 cargo of lumber would procure anything from the natives — 

 indeed, almost their entire possessions. 



Friday, July i. To-day we narrowly escaped a bad accident. 

 The doctor accidentally discharged a gun in the big room, 

 where Gibson, Verhoefif, and Tooky were sitting. Fortunately 

 no one was hurt, the charge going through the roof, making 



