IN GUSINA CAMP 79 
And now, before we close this day, comes something 
which involves a moral, if one only knew how to point it. 
We often speculate on the law of chances; we wish, 
for instance, we could trace the steps, see some of the 
working by which things which seem as if they must fall 
out in such and such a manner, are just missed, just 
fail. 
Well, the very first thing that met our eyes as we once 
more reached the bank of the Gusina at our crossing 
was the fresh track of nine reindeer and two sleighs all 
up the side of the river mud. They had passed since 
we crossed. So fresh was the track that the mud had 
scarcely settled in the footprints of the deer. There 
they were, sure enough, a light sleigh drawn by five and 
a heavy sleigh by four deer. The men had probably 
been up the river collecting drift-wood. We traced their 
trail for some way. One more turn of the river bank 
and they would have come full in sight of our little tent, 
where we should doubtless have found them on our 
return. But nothing told them ; and they stopped short. 
How they missed seeing our footprints as they passed I 
couldn’t imagine. Fancy, if you can, an Indian missing 
them! When I came to know the Samoyeds I found 
they were not Indians—by a very long way. 
But see the case: Here were we, the only two, 
solitary white men on an Arctic island, in need of but 
one thing, and that was native help. We knew abso- 
lutely nothing of where these natives lived, but this very 
