Of'O 
OOPEGSOA K. 
together upon a little face of offal-stained rock. Except 
a bank of moss, which broke the wind-draught from the 
fiord, they were entirely without protection from the 
weather, though the temperature was 5° below zero. 
The huts were completely deserted, the snow tossut 
had fallen in, and the window was as free and open 
as summer to the purifying air. Every living thing 
about the settlement was out upon the bare rocks. 
Rudest of gypsies, how they squalled, and laughed, 
and snored, and rolled about! Some were sucking 
bird-skins, others were boiling incredible numbers of 
auks in huge soapstone pots, and two youngsters, cry¬ 
ing, at the top of their voices, “Oopegsoak! Oopeg- 
soak!” were fighting for an owl. It was the only 
specimen (Strix nyctea) that I had seen except on the 
wing; but, before I could secure it, they had torn 
it limb from limb, and were eating its warm flesh 
and blood, their faces buried among its dishevelled 
feathers. 
The fires were of peat-moss greased with the fat of 
the bird-skins. They were used only for cooking, how¬ 
ever, the people depending for comfort on the warmth 
of close contact. Old Kresut, the blind patriarch of the 
settlement, was the favored centre, and around him, as 
a focus, was a coil of men, women, and children, as 
perplexing to unravel as a skein of eels. The children 
alone were toddling about and bringing in stores of 
moss, their faces smeared with blood, and titbits of raw 
liver between their teeth. 
The scene was redolent of plenty and indolence,— 
