TERRIFIC ENCOUNTER WITH A BEAR. 



275 



Captain B , to my astonishment, returned on the following 



day at about 10 P.M. He had duly arrived at Oopungnewing ; 

 was hospitably received in Bob's igloo for the night ; and, having 

 supplied himself with a load of walrus meat — indeed, he might 

 have had half a dozen loads, so abundant was the supply at that 

 time — and preferring to return rather than stay where the igloos 

 were about tumbling down, owing to the moist weather, he came 

 back in the midst of the continuous storm. The labor of getting 

 over the Bayard Taylor Pass was very severe to him, especially 

 at the steep ascent on the other side. He could only make two 

 or three steps before he was obliged to rest, each step carrying 

 him thigh deep into the soft snow. 



With the captain came " Bob" and his wife " Polly ;" but this 

 time Bob came in a professional capacity. He was a doctor, or, 

 rather, an angeko, and now came to visit the sick mother of 

 Sharkey. 



The following day I chanced to witness him engaged at the 

 work. I was walking among the ruined igloos, which, having 

 fallen down, had been nearly all replaced by skin tents, when I 

 heard the peculiar sound of ankooting close by. It was near the 

 tupic of Ar-tung-ung, mother of Sharkey ; but I did not enter, for 

 generally no one but the family is allowed to be present on such 

 occasions ; and, though one can not help pitying the superstitious 

 feeling that directs them to this, yet why should any of us make 

 light of it ? They are earnest in the matter, and only follow the 

 customs of their fathers for generations before them. Possibly, 

 however, it may yet be the honor of our country, through some 

 noble-hearted Christian philanthropist, to bring them to a knowl- 

 edge of the one true God. 



The Innuit Bob was a man that every one of us highly esteem- 

 ed. I have before alluded to him in warm terms, and I will now 

 mention a circumstance which belonged to the romantic incidents 

 of his life. 



In the winter of 1854-5, he and a companion, with some dogs, 

 attacked a large polar bear. His companion's name was Se-nik- 

 too — " Moose," as called by the whalers. He afterward, in 1858, 

 died at Allen's Island, leaving a widow — the Puto whom I have 

 frequently named. 



Moose fired at the bear, when it rushed toward them. Bob 

 stood his ground until he too had fired, and then immediately 

 turned and ran ; but the next moment the bear was upon him, 



