The People of the

Polar North:

A Record

Knud Rasmussen

(1879 –1933)

(Translated by George Herring)

English Translation

Originally published

1908

Table of Contents

EDITOR'S PREFACE

PART I. THE NEW PEOPLE

FIRST MEETING WITH THE POLAR ESKIMOS

THE MAGICIAN'S LAST GREAT INSPIRATION

A TRIBAL MIGRATION

OLD MERQUSAQ NARRATES

THE OLD BEAR-HUNTER

THE ORPHAN

WOMEN, A REVOLT

THE WOMAN WHO TOLD A LIE

BARREN

A SUMMER JOURNEY

THE DARK DRAWS NEAR

WEATHERBOUND

PART II PRIMITIVE VIEWS OF LIFE

THE CREATION

THAT TIME LONG, LONG AGO, WHEN MEN FIRST WERE

THE TWO FRIENDS WHO WISHED TO TRAVEL  ROUND THE WORLD

MEN

THE SOUL

THE SOUL THAT ROAMED THROUGH ALL ANIMALS

THE BODY

THE NAME

LIFE

DEATH

RELIGIOUS BELIEFS

THE RECOIL OF THE ACTION ON THE DOER

PAPIK, WHO MURDERED HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW

Pautusorssuaq, Who Murdered His Uncle

THE WIFE-CHANGERS

THE MIDDEN SPIRIT

THE EARTH SPIRIT WHOM THE GIRLS TEASED

THE CHILD-STEALER

THE SPIRIT OF THE SKIN HANGINGS

PREVENTIVE MEASURES

AMULETS

MAGIC FORMULAE

MAGICIANS

HOW THE FOOD DISH CAME INTO BEING

PART III. FABLES AND LEGENDS

ANIMAL FABLES

THE RACE OF THE WORM AND THE LOUSE TO MAN

LICE

THE RAVEN WHO WAS ANXIOUS TO BE MARRIED

THE OWL WHO WAS TOO GREEDY

THE MAN WHO TOOK A WIFE FROM AMONG THE WILD GEESE

THE MAN WHO TOOK A FOX TO WIFE

HOW THE NARWHAL CAME

THE ICE-MAN

THE CATERPILLAR

THE WOMAN WHO NURSED A WORM

THE SUN, THE MOON, AND THE STARS

THE INHABITANTS OF THE MOON

THE GREAT BEAR

VENUS

QUEER STORIES AND TRAVELLING ADVENTURES

THE GIANT

THE WOMAN WITH THE IRON TAIL

THE GIRL WHO WAS TURNED TO STONE

THE WOMAN WHO MADE CLOTHES OF RAVEN'S FEATHERS

THE WOMAN WHO WOULD NOT TAKE A HUSBAND

THE GLUTTON

ISERAQ, WHO STOLE

THE ORIGIN OF THE FOG

THE MAN WHO ATE HIS WIVES

THE BABY WHO ATE ITS PARENTS

THE LIAR

THE MAN WHO REVENGED THE WIDOWS

THE WHITE-HAIRED HAG

THE MAN WHO WENT TRAVELLING TO LOOK FOR HIS SON

ATUNGAIT, WHO WENT VISITING

THE MAN WHO WAS BLOWN AWAY BY THE STORM

THE GREAT FIRE

THE ORPHAN WHO DRIFTED OUT TO SEA

THE ORPHAN WHO BECAME A GIANT

MITSIMA, WHO FROZE TO DEATH

KUMAGDLAK, WITH THE LIVING ARROWS

MEETINGS WITH STRANGE TRIBES

NAKED PEOPLE WITH FEATHERS

THE REINDEER-HUNTERS WHO NEVER CAME BACK

THE INLAND-DWELLER

SUAGUK, WHO MARRIED AN INLAND-DWELLER

THE GIANT DOG

THE INLAND-DWELLERS AT ETA

THE MAN WHO PIERCED HIS WIFE'S LEGS

QISUK, WHO WENT AWAY SOUTH

PART IV. THE WEST GREENLANDERS

LIFE IN A COLONY

MANASSEH

THE GREAT REVIVAL IN EVIGHEDSFJORDEN

OJUVAINATH, THE HUNTER

AMONG THE POOR, IN THE HILLS OF ILL WINDS

MOSES

PART V. THE EAST GREENLANDERS

INTRODUCTION

THE DEATH OF SAKUA

THE MURDER OF KATIAJA

AVIAJA AND HIS FAMILY

AUTDARUTA, THE MAGICIAN

WHEN RAVENS COULD TALK

THE RAVEN AND THE GREAT NORTHERN DIVER

THE RAVEN AND THE GOOSE

THE BOY WHO WENT TO THE LAND OF SPIRITS

THE TWO BROTHERS

THE CLEFT IN THE ROCK WHICH CLOSED UP!

THE WOMAN WHO ATE MEN

THE PTARMIGAN AND THE LONG-TAILED DUCK

THE INSECTS THAT WANTED TO MARRY THE BACHELOR

THE BACHELOR WHO MARRIED A FOX

THE LEGEND OF A SOUL-STEALER

THE INVULNERABLE UASE

THE MAN WHO WAS TOO FOND OF HIS WIFE

A STORY OF THE GREAT FAMINE

A TEMPTATION

EDITOR'S PREFACE

The People Of The Polar North has been compiled from the Danish originals recently published by the author in Copenhagen, under the titles of New People and Under the Lash of the North Wind. It deals with the three distinct Eskimo branches which make up the population of Greenland, that is to say, with the West Greenlanders, the civilised and Christianised inhabitants of South-West and West Greenland; the East Greenlanders, formerly the inhabitants of the South-East coast, which is now quite deserted, except for the area of Angmagssalik, as is also the whole of the East coast; and with the Polar Eskimos.

But, as its title implies, it is first and foremost an account of the most northerly dwelling people in the world, that is to say, of the little Eskimo group of nomads who wander from settlement to settlement between Cape York, North of Melville Bay, and Cape Alexander (approximately therefore between 76° and 78° N. latitude), and who are called in this book the Polar Eskimos. It is more than probable that the traditions and legends of the Eskimos scattered along the North of Canada would have much in common with those of the people whose characteristics and stories are here so faithfully presented, and for that reason the book may prove, and we hope will prove, of wide interest and importance. If Mr. Rasmussen is able to carry out his present intention of making a six years' tour along the whole of the North coast of North America as far as Alaska, with merely the slender Eskimo equipment of kayak and dog-sledge, for the purpose of studying at first hand the still-surviving remnants of a once numerous race, there may afterwards be an opportunity from his data of making comparisons and reaching definite ethnological conclusions. At present the Eskimos, as a race, are an unexplored and unexploited people, and much of their origin and history is still conjecture, though the proof of the great similarity between the dialects of different tribes would give confirmation to the theory of a common parentage at no remote date. As will be seen in The People of the Polar North, at least three distinct groups, viz. an American Eskimo group, apparently arriving from South Ellesmere Land or perhaps even from Baffin Land, the Cape York Eskimos, and the so-called West Greenlanders, had little or no difficulty in making themselves mutually understood. And it should not be forgotten that within the memory of man there had been no association between these same groups. The East Greenlanders, whose dialect presents many points of similarity with the rest, might have been mentioned in the list, but I have excluded them, as it is not strictly correct to assert that there has been no association until recent times between them and the West Greenlanders.

In June 1902 the Danish Literary Expedition left Copenhagen for South-West Greenland, en route for Cape York, the three principal members of it being Mr. L. Mylius-Erichsen (whose interesting diary has not so far been published in English), Mr. Knud Rasmussen, and Lieutenant Count Harald Moltke, the artist.

Each was responsible for a special section of the work, and all of them had had previous experience in Arctic travelling. Mr. Rasmussen was peculiarly fitted to win the confidence and affection of the Eskimos, and to acquire an intimate knowledge of their religious beliefs, their legends, and their personal recollections, because he himself had been born and brought up in Greenland, had spoken the Eskimo language from his babyhood, and could claim racial kinship with the people among whom he was pursuing his investigations. To avoid any misunderstanding that this remark might give rise to, I hasten to explain that this kinship is tolerably remote, and that Mr. Rasmussen is not, as some people have fancied, a civilised savage Eskimo. I believe he really has some Eskimo blood in his veins, and, especially in association with the Polar Eskimos, whom he has studied with such affectionate interest, makes the most of it and half-jestingly claims to be an Eskimo himself, but the actual facts are rather more prosaic. He is the elder son of Pastor Christian Rasmussen, a Danish clergyman who for upwards of twenty years was a missionary in South-West Greenland, and at the age of fourteen he was brought home to Denmark, where he finished his education and graduated at the Copenhagen University. So he is in the fortunate position of being able to make his investigations and observations as it were from the inside and outside at the same time.

But he is more than a sympathetic and able student of an interesting group of pagans. The People of the Polar North are New People, as far as their inner life, beliefs, and traditions are concerned, and in this field Mr. Rasmussen must remain the last as he was the first competent seeker. Never before has there been an Arctic explorer attracted to the far North, not by the magnetic Pole, but by the Polar people, who has at the same time been so admirably equipped for sympathetic research as is Mr. Rasmussen. Even Rink, the well-known author of valuable books on the Eskimos and on Greenland, and whom I have no wish whatever to depreciate, since he brought great sympathy to bear on his inquiries, as well as much painstaking labour, had not the advantage of knowing the Greenlandic language and consequently could only obtain his information through the medium of three or four interpreters. Such a drawback must almost unavoidably lead, and in his case did lead, to misunderstandings and mistakes.

And, just as Mr. Rasmussen was the first man to make thorough and efficient research into the folk-lore treasures of the Polar Eskimos, their traditional history and their religion, he will probably of necessity be the last. When others come, if they do come, they will be too late. The Polar Eskimos are very few in number. They are not a fertile race, and year by year, ravaged often by mysterious and perhaps imported sicknesses, and waging a perpetual war with Nature in her harshest mood, they are growing steadily fewer. Soon there may be none of them left; but even though the race survive, their traditions hardly can survive much longer unimpaired. Contact with the white Polar explorers, the communication which the Danish Literary Expedition succeeded in opening up between the Cape Yorkers and the West Greenlanders, may be useful to these children of nature, inasmuch as they have already learnt to appreciate some of the advantages of modern civilisation—such as Winchester breech-loaders, ammunition, and matches—which it would be impossible to deprive them of again. But undoubtedly such contact will tend to efface the memory of their legends and their folk-lore, to destroy the continuity of their primitive religious beliefs, and to modify their mode of thought. Such a result is inevitable; but it is the death-note of their unspoiled individuality. The North American Eskimos of course remain, if there be any who wish to follow in Mr. Rasmussen's footsteps, and do better work than his. But they will find it a difficult task, and I am not in a position to state that that field of research would prove equally fruitful.

Unfortunately, the present volume has not had the advantage of the author's own revision. He sailed for Greenland in August 1906, to make inquiries and preliminary preparations, previous to starting on the North Canadian tour of exploration alluded to above, and he will not again be within reach of any post until after this book is in print.

Before he left Europe, however, he expressed, in a letter to me, his hope that an English edition of his book, or books, might appear, and he entrusted all arrangements to the joint decision of his friend Count Harald Moltke and myself.

For the editorship, however faulty, I must herewith claim full responsibility, but I should like to take this opportunity of thanking Count Harald Moltke for the loyal and consistent support he has given me throughout, as well as for the unfailing patience and kindness that he has shown me, and without which my editorship of the English edition would have been impossible. There is not a page of it that has not passed under his critical supervision, the likelihood of error or misunderstanding in the translation being thus reduced to a minimum, and I have not once consulted him on any point when his help and advice have not been immediately forthcoming. Of his own share in the book, the illustrations, I need not speak. They will speak for themselves more eloquently than I can do. I should, however, like to say that many of them were executed in pain, and under circumstances of unusual difficulty; for Count Harald Moltke became seriously ill before arriving at Cape York, and for many weeks it seemed unlikely that he would ever return to Europe alive. It was a long time before he could even hold pencil or brush firmly again, and up to the present time he has not fully recovered the health which he sacrificed in his enthusiastic and conscientious labours. Drawing and painting are not outdoor pursuits pre-eminently adapted to a temperature of 300 below zero, and obviously the drawings of the present volume do not represent the entire output of his draughtsman's labours. This I mention as a tribute to Count Harald Moltke's personal courage, not as an apology for his pictures, which need none.

I must further express my grateful thanks to Pastor Christian Rasmussen (author of Gronlandsk Sproglaere) for kindly revising and correcting the spelling of the various Greenlandic names and words employed, also to Professor Hector Jungersen, of the Zoological Museum in Copenhagen, and to Mr. Edgar A. Smith, D.S.O., of the British Museum, who have been good enough to check and rectify the zoological names that occur.

In conclusion I should like to explain briefly that the plan of the present volume does not pretend to follow the sequence of the Expedition's route, it having seemed wiser to place the section of the work dealing with the Polar Eskimos first, although the matter was collected in a different order.

The Danish Literary Expedition arrived in Greenland in June 1902, and left Upernivik for Cape York in March 1903, spending nearly ten months among the Polar Eskimos, and leaving for the south again in January 1904. The Expedition again broke its journey in West Greenland, and only arrived back in Copenhagen in September 1904, the East Greenlandic stories and fables being collected and written down during this second stay in West Greenland.

As I have said, I must claim full responsibility for the arrangement of the present volume. Unfortunately, it was impossible to include all the matter at my disposal within the necessary limits, but I have endeavoured not to omit anything really typical, or of interest to English readers. My aim has been to include descriptions of life among the three types that make up the population of Greenland, and to offer as representative a selection as possible from the annals of their abundant folk-lore. Save for what in the pursuance of this plan has been left out, and in one or two cases transposed, the author's text remains practically untouched.

I regret that there exist no portraits of the last of the East Greenlanders, but Count Harald Moltke was not with Mr. Rasmussen during his stay among them.

Whether this little book will meet with the appreciation the devoted efforts of its author and artist deserve I cannot tell, but it is with the hope that it may please what is perhaps the most critical audience in the world, that it has been launched on the troubled waters of English publicity.

G. HERRING.

London, April 1908.

PART I. THE NEW PEOPLE

FIRST MEETING WITH THE POLAR ESKIMOS

We had reached our goal!

But one of our number was dangerously ill, and we were powerless to relieve him; the people we had hoped to meet with at the Cape York settlement had left their houses, and our famished dogs were circling madly round us; we had hardly enough food left for one good meal, even for ourselves. To lighten our sledges we had stored our chests of supplies at Cape Murdoch, and a considerable proportion of the provisions that we had calculated would suffice for the journey thence to Cape York had been devoured by the dogs.

The forced pace of the last two days and nights had greatly exhausted us; for the moment, however, we were. so much struck by all the new sights around us, by the strange, primitive human dwellings, that we forgot our fatigue in exploring the settlement. But it was not long before we flung ourselves down by our sledges and dropped asleep.

It is but a short rest, though, that a traveller can permit himself under critical circumstances. One of us soon woke again and roused the others. A more careful examination of the snow huts then revealed that it could not have been long since their owners had left them. In one of them there was a large seal, not cut up, which provided our dogs with a very welcome feast.

There were numerous sledge-tracks running northward, with only a light powdering of snow upon them; consequently men could not be far away.

He knew that they had kinsmen a long way north; but no one was certain exactly whereabouts. It was so far away. The following tradition he had heard as a child:

"Once upon a time there was a man who lived farther north than any of the settlements. He hunted bears every spring on a dog-sledge.

"Once, during the chase, he came upon strange sledgetracks, and made up his mind to seek out the people who had made them. So he set out on his bear-hunts the next year earlier than he was wont to do. The third day he came to houses different in appearance from those to which he was accustomed. But he met with no people; fresh tracks, though, showed that the settlement had been only recently left.

"When the bear-hunter drove off the following year he took wood with him, as a gift to the strangers; for he thought they must suffer greatly from the want of wood, as they used narwhal's tusks for the roof-beams of their houses.

"But he did not meet with the strangers on his second visit either. True, the tracks were newer than they had been the last time, but he did not dare to follow them up, and thus put a still greater distance between himself and his own village. He contented himself with burying the wood he had brought with him in the snow near the houses, and then, having presented his gifts, he went home.

"The third year he raised the best team of dogs that he had ever had, and earlier than was his custom he drove north after bears and the strange people. When at last he reached the village it was just as it had been the other years: the inhabitants had gone; but in the snow, where he had left his wood, they had hidden a large bundle of walrus tusks, and inside, in the entrance passage, lay a magnificent bitch and puppies. These were the return gifts of the strangers.

He put them on his sledge and drove back home; but the people who lived north of all other men he never found.

And now, just as had been the case then, many sledgetracks ran north, and again, as in the legend, it could not have been many days since they had been made.

It was an odd experience, creeping through the long, low tunnel entrances into the houses; with our furs on we could hardly pass. At the end, we came to a hole up through which we had to squeeze ourselves, and then we were in the house. There was a strong smell of raw meat and fox inside.

The first time one sees a house of this description one is struck by the little with which human beings can be content. It is all so primitive, and has such an odour of paganism and magic incantation. A cave like this, skilfully built in arch of gigantic blocks of stone, one involuntarily peoples mentally with half supernatural beings. You see them, in your fancy, pulling and tearing at raw flesh, you see the blood dripping from their fingers, and you are seized yourself with a strange excitement at the thought of the extraordinary life that awaits you in their company.

We walked round, examining all these things, which, in their silent way, spoke to us of the men and women who lived their lonely life up here. A little way from the houses, in a circle, were some large round stones, shining with stale grease. Here they must have had their meals, suggested one of our Greenlanders. Already our imagination was at work.

Farther up, just under the overhanging cliff, lay a kayak with all its appurtenances, covered over with stones. Behind it was a sledge, with dead dogs harnessed to it, almost wholly hidden by the drifting snow. There, then, men lay buried with all their possessions, as Eskimo custom prescribes.

All that we saw was new to us and absorbingly interesting. At last we were on Polar Eskimo ground, and our delight at having reached our goal was unmeasured. If only we had been spared the calamity of our comrade's serious illness! He lay dazed and feverish, unable to stir, and had to be fed when he required to eat. At a council among ourselves, it was agreed that Mylius-Erichsen should remain with him, keeping the two seal-hunters, while Jorgen Bronlund and I drove on north as fast as our almost exhausted dogs could take us, to look for people. We calculated that at a distance of about sixty-four English miles from Cape York we ought to come across Eskimos at Saunders Island, and if not there, then at Natsilivik, some forty English miles farther north. All the provisions we could take were a few biscuits and a box of butter. Still, we had our rifles to fall back upon.

The sealers had gone out to try their luck, and we waited for them to return—which they did empty-handed. Then we drank a little cocoa, and drove off along the glorious rocky coast, into the clear, light night.

In the neighbourhood of Cape Atholl we discovered fresh sledge-tracks, which we followed up. They led to a stone cairn, under a steep wall of rock, which cairn contained a large deposit of freshly-caught bearded seal. Ah! then we could not be far from human beings. The intense suspense of it! For it almost meant our comrade's life.

We had driven all night—some twelve hours, and a little way beyond Cape Atholl were obliged to pull up, to give the dogs a rest and breathing time. We had covered about fiftysix English miles at full gallop, and, should we be forced to drive all the way to Natsilivik, should have to make reasonable allowance for the empty stomachs of our poor animals. We flung ourselves down on the ice, discussed our prospects, ate a little butter—we simply dared not eat our biscuits,—lay down on our sledges and went to sleep.

After three hours' rest we went on again.

We had only driven a little way, when a black dot became visible in front. It developed and grew into a sledge.

Jorgen!—Knud!—Jorgen!—Knud!

We were half mad with relief and delight, and could only call out each other's names.

Speed signal! The dogs drop their tails and prick up their ears. We murmur the signal again between our teeth, and the snow swirls up beneath their hind legs. A biting wind cuts us in the face. At last! at last! people, other people, the new people—the Polar Eskimos!

A long narrow sledge is coming towards us at full speed, a whip whistles through the air, and unfamiliar dog-signals are borne on the wind to our ears. A little fur-clad man in a pair of glistening white bearskin trousers springs from the sledge and runs up to his team, urging the dogs on still faster with shouts and gesticulations. Behind him, sitting astride the sledge, sits another person, dressed in blue fox, with a large pointed hat on her head: that is his wife.

Our dogs begin to bark, and the sledges meet to the accompaniment of loud yelps.

We spring off and run up to each other, stop and stare at one another, incapable of speech, both parties equally astonished.

I explain to him who we are, and where we come from.

White men! white men! he calls out to his wife. White men have come on a visit!

We have no difficulty in understanding or making ourselves understood.

I hasten to the woman, who has remained seated on the sledge. All sorts of strange emotions crowd in upon me, and I do not know what to say. Then, without thinking what I am doing, I hold out my hand. She looks at me, uncomprehending, and laughs. And then we all laugh together.

The man's name is Maisanguaq (the little white whale skin), his wife Meqo (the feather); they live at Igfigsoq, from twelve to sixteen English miles south of our meeting-place, and we learn that three or four other families live at the same place.

In our eagerness to arrive at Agpat (Saunders Island) we had cut across outside the bay on which Igfigsoq lies.

The snow on the ice at the entrance to the bay being hard, we had not been able to detect sledge-tracks which might have led us to enter it. But when we heard that there were far more people at Agpat, and that the hunting and sealing there were particularly good, I decided to drive straight on, and, by sledge post, advise my comrades to do the same.

Maisanguaq promptly seated himself across my sledge, his wife driving theirs, and we all set off together towards Agpat, carrying on the liveliest conversation meanwhile. The two ought really to have been at home by this time, but had turned back to show us the way.

Meqo was a capital dog-driver, and wielded her long whip as well as any man. In West Greenland you never see a woman drive, so I expressed my surprise; Maisanguaq laughed out with pride, and called out to her gaily to lash hard with her whip, it amused the white men, and Meqo swung her whip, and off we dashed, she leading.

Tugto! tugto! she cried, and the dogs bounded forward, and soon we began to near the high-lying little island on which Agpat lay.

Maisanguaq then told me that many people lived at Agpat: there were three stone houses and five snow huts; and he burst into peals of laughter each time he thought of the surprise he was going to witness. White men! white men! he called out, whenever an instant's pause in the conversation occurred, and rubbed his hands with glee.

Suddenly he stopped short and listened, then jumped up in my sledge and looked behind. Another sledge had come in sight a long way to our rear.

Aulavte! aulavte! he called out. (That is the signal for a halt.) But my dogs did not understand him, and I had to come to the rescue by whistling to them.

Then he jumped out on the one side, and began to hop up in the air and slap himself on the legs. He continued to indulge in these extraordinary antics till he was quite red in the face from his exertions. This was an indication that something unusual was going on. The strange sledge came on at a gallop; as it approached, two young fellows sprang out and ran alongside, shouting. Maisanguaq began to yell too, and continued to flounder about like a madman.

At last the sledge came up to ours and stopped. The two young men were named Qulutana and Inukitsoq. First, of course, they wanted to know who we were, and Maisanguaq delivered himself of his lesson. Then the whole caravan drove on, laughing and shouting, towards Agpat.

MEQO

Never in my life have I felt myself to be in such wild, unaccustomed surroundings, never so far, so very far away from home, as when I stood in the midst of the tribe of noisy Polar Eskimos on the beach at Agpat. We were not observed till we were close to the land, so the surprise and confusion created by our arrival were all the greater.

Maisanguaq recommenced his jumping antics by the side of the sledge as soon as we arrived within calling distance of the place, and then screamed out a deafening White men! white men!

The people, who had been moving briskly about among the houses, stood still, and the children left off their play.

White men! white men! repeated the young fellows who had joined us. Our dogs drooped their tails and pricked up their ears as a many-tongued roar from the land reached us. And then, like a mountain slide, the whole swarm rushed down to the shore, where we had pulled up—a few old grey-haired men and stiff-jointed old crones, young men and women, children who could hardly toddle, all dressed alike in these fox and bear-skin furs, which create such an extraordinarily barbaric first impression. Some came with long knives in their hands, with bloodstained arms and upturned sleeves, having been in the midst of flaying operations when we arrived, and all this produced a very savage effect; at the moment it was difficult to believe that these savages, the neighbours of the North Pole, as Astrup called them, were ever likely to become one's good, warm friends.

Our dogs were unharnessed, and quantities of meat flung to them at once. Meat there was in abundance, and everywhere, in between the houses, you saw cooking-hearths. It was immediately apparent that these people were not suffering from privation.

On one's arrival at a settlement in Danish West Greenland, it is usual for the young women to help the newcomers off with their outdoor clothes. Now, for a moment, I forgot where I was, and as the Greenlandic custom is, stretched out my foot towards a young girl who was standing by my side, meaning her to pull off my outer boots. The girl grew embarrassed, and the men laughed. There was that winning bashfulness about her that throws attraction over all Nature's children; a pale blush shot across her cheek, like a ripple over a smooth mountain lake; she half turned away from me, and her black eyes looked uneasily out over the frozen sea.

What is thy name?

Others will tell thee what my name is, she stammered. Aininaq is her name, put in the bystanders, laughing. A jovial old paterfamilias then came up to her and said with gravity—

Do what the strange man asks thee! And she stooped down at once and drew off my boots.

Move away, let me come! called out an old woman from the crowd, and she elbowed the people aside and forced her way through to my sledge.

It was my daughter thou wast talking to! she burst out eagerly. Dost thou not think her beautiful? and she rolled her little self-conscious eyes around.

But Aininaq had slipped quietly away from the crowd of curious beholders and hidden herself. It was only later that I learnt my request to her had been construed into a proposal of marriage.

Jorgen and I were now conducted up to the houses.

Sheltering walls of snow had been built up here and there to form cooking-places, and round these the natives clustered. A young fellow came up carrying a frozen walrus liver, raw, which was our first meal; all the men of the village ate of it with us, to show their hospitable intent. Curious youngsters gaped at us greedily from every side, and ran away when we looked at them.

When the pot had boiled, we were called in to the senior of the tribe, the magician Sagdloq (The Lie); the boiled meat was placed on the floor, and a knife put in our hands.

A lively conversation got under way. The people were not difficult to understand, as their dialect differed but little from the ordinary Greenlandic; they were surprised themselves at the ease with which they understood us, who yet came from such a distance.

After the meal, they immediately set about building us a snow hut.

There is a sick man with you, so you must be helped quickly, they said.

They hewed large blocks out of the hard snow: those were to be the walls of our new house. Then they set it up in a hollow in the snow, and in the course of half-an-hour it stood complete.

A sledge was sent for our comrades, and by early morning we were all together.

The reception these pagan savages gave us was affectingly cordial; it seemed that they could not do enough for us. And just as they were on our arrival: helpful as they could possibly be, and most generous with their gifts,—so they remained the whole time that we spent among them.

Some bear-hunters were ranging the country south of Cape York, just during these days. They had met with good luck, and, laden with spoil—skins and meat,—were driving slowly home.

They were sitting half asleep on their sledges, languid from the April sunshine, and torpid after heavy eating.

Then the one in front was roused suddenly