CHAPTER XXI. 
THE GAME OF BALE— MY BROTHER’S LAKE—THE POLAR SEASONS 
—FATE OF THE ESQUIMAUX—THE ESQUIMAUX LIMITS—ESQUI¬ 
MAUX ENDURANCE-AWAHTOIC’s HUNT — HIS ESCAPE— THE 
GUARDIAN WALRUS. 
Before I left Etah on my return, I took an early 
stroll with. Sip-su, “ the handsome hoy,” to the lake 
back of my old travelling-route, and directly under the 
face of the glacier. 
lie led me first to the play-ground, where all his 
young friends of the settlement were busy in one of 
their sports. Each of them had a walrus-rib for a 
golph or sldnnystick, and they were contending to 
drive a hurley, made out of the round knob of a flip¬ 
per-joint, up a bank of frozen snow. Roars of laugh¬ 
ter greeted the impatient striker as he missed his 
blow at the shining ball, and eager cries told how 
close the match was drawing to an end. They were 
counting on the fingers of both hands, Eight, eight, 
eight: the game is .ten. 
Strange,—the thought intruded itself, but there was 
no wisdom in it,—strange that these famine-pinched 
