110 
LIGHT HEARTS. 
the ice seem to be known to them by a kind of in¬ 
stinct; so, when the light came, they harnessed in 
their reserve of dogs and started for Cape Alexander. 
“It could not, one might suppose, have been a 
very cheerful migration,—women, children, and young 
babies thrusting themselves into a frozen wilderness at 
temperatures below —30°, and sometimes verging on 
—60°. But Hans, with a laugh that seemed to indi¬ 
cate some exquisite point of concealed appreciation of 
the ludicrous, said they travelled generally in squads, 
singing ‘Amna Ayah,’ and, when they reached any of 
the halting-huts, ate the blubber and liver of the 
owners and danced all night. So at last they came 
to Utak-soak, the ‘great caldron,’ which we call Cape 
Alexander, and settled down at Peteravik, or the 
‘Welcome Halt.’ 
“ At first game was scarce here also; but the season 
came soon when the female walrus is tending her calf 
on the ice, and then, but for the protracted exposure of 
the hunt, there was no drawback to its success. They 
are desperately merry now, and seem to have forgotten 
that a second winter is ahead of them. Hans said, ( 
with one of his quiet laughs, ‘One-half of them are sick 
and cannot hunt: these do nothing but eat, and sing 
“Amna Ayah.”’ 
“April 18, Wednesday.—I am just off a two hun¬ 
dred miles’ journey, bringing hack my, deserter, and, 
what is perhaps quite as important, a sledge-load of 
choice w'alrus-cuts. 
“ I found from Hans that his negotiation for the dogs 
