208 THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE KARLUK 
our days of stumbling over the rough ice and cross¬ 
ing open leads it seemed as simple as walking along 
a country road. Our dogs were in bad shape and 
only one of the four was of any real use. 
About two o’clock in the afternoon we could 
make out black objects some distance ahead of us; 
as we drew nearer we could see that they were mov¬ 
ing. Kataktovick had been ahead, while I drove 
the dogs; now he stopped, came back and said, 
“Eskimo igloo.” 
“Ardegar” I replied, and told him to go on. 
He set his face eastward again and I urged the 
dogs harder than ever. Ordinarily he was a good 
walker but now he seemed to be lagging a little 
and dropping back, nearer and nearer the dogs. 
I asked him what the matter was. 
“Eskimo see me, they kill me,” he said. “My 
father my mother told me long time ago Eskimo 
from Point Barrow go to Siberia, never come back, 
Siberian Eskimo kill him.” 
I told him that he was mistaken and repeated 
what I had said the day before about the hospi¬ 
tality of the Siberian Eskimo. Our troubles were 
at an end, I said; we should now have’ a place to 
dry our clothes and get them mended, or perhaps 
get new ones. “Maybe,” I added, “ we get to¬ 
bacco.” 
Kataktovick was still reluctant, even though I 
