CHAPTER IV. 
THE BENNESOAK.—A DILEMMA-THE SUN — END OF FEBRUARY — 
OUR CONDITION-THE WARM SOUTHEASTER-MOONLIGHT-THE 
LANDSCAPE. 
“February 22, Thursday.—Washington’s birthday: 
all our colors flying in the new sunlight. A day of 
good omen, even to the sojourners among the ice. 
Hans comes in with great news. He has had a shot at 
our bennesoak, a long shot; but it reached him. The 
animal made off at a slow run, but we are sure of him 
now. This same deer has been hanging round the lake 
at the fiord through all the dim returning twilight; and 
so many stories were told of his appearance and move¬ 
ments that he had almost grown into a myth. To 
morrow we shall desire his better acquaintance. 
“ The Esquimaux call the deer when he is without 
antlers a bennesoak. The greater number of these 
animals retain their antlers till the early spring, begin¬ 
ning to drop them about the return of sunshine; but 
some of the strongest lose them before the winter sets 
in. They are gregarious in their habits, and fond of 
particular localities. Where they have been gathered 
Vol. II.—4 49 
