A SICK MAN'S OBSTINACY. 



227 



might guide him in the direct route to the ship. Koojesse disen- 

 gaging the single trace from the peto* the same was passed to 

 Brown's hand. Thus he had a guide, a leader in harness, whose 

 instinct was truer than that of any man, with all his boasted in- 

 telligence. But this dog Brown exchanged for a younger one un- 

 used to the route. With heart bounding with hopeful throbbings 

 that he would soon be among his home companions — that he 

 would soon be participating in the longed-for food of civilization 

 (for which he had acquired a hundred-fold stronger desire than he 

 ever had before, in the course of his brief stay among the Innuits, 

 whose almost sole living is fresh animal food), Brown started on, 

 traveling with vigorous step the rough ice-road before him. Long 

 before the safe ice-covering had been made over the meat deposit, 

 Brown was out of sight of Koojesse and Charley. 



" A few minutes after twelve o'clock that night (Saturday) I 

 retired. A little later, I heard first the cry of the dogs ; then the 

 loud, peculiar, and unmistakable voice of the Innuit dog-driver ; 

 and then the musical sledge, whose glassy bone-shoeing rung to 

 the music of the snows. 



" Previous to my turning in, all hands had retired. No one 

 was up to learn the news from Frobisher Bay settlements. 



" The sledge was driven up alongside of the George Henry; the 

 dogs were quickly unharnessed ; the small portion of the original 

 load was placed on deck, out of reach of the dogs, Charley de- 

 parting for his igloo near the stern of the vessel ; while Koojesse 

 (whose winter quarters are with us) hastened in, divesting him- 

 self of his dress, and placing himself alongside of his warm sleep- 

 ing nuliana, Tu-nuk-der-lien, who had retired hours before I did 

 to the usual place of their tuktoo bed, close beside the door of 

 my sleeping apartment. A few moments found the weary In- 

 nuit, my friend Koojesse, in the arms of sleep. The sleep of a 

 tired Innuit is usually accompanied with loud nasal sounds. 



" My lateness in retiring on Saturday night, my unquiet sleep, 

 made me a later riser on the following glorious day of days — 

 the Sabbath. 



" Breakfast hour with us is eight o'clock. I was up and dress- 

 ed only half an hour in advance. What was the first news that 

 awaited me? That one of my ' Greenlanders' had been outrage- 

 ously mutilated by some Innuit, who had cut clean off the ani- 



* The short line that connects all the draught lines or traces of the dogs to the 

 runners of the sledge. 



