Page:St. Nicholas (serial) (IA stnicholasserial321dodg).pdf/485



evening in early February, Oosilik, our faithful Eskimo, knocked on the door of the cabin as we were drawn up in a close circle around the log fire in the big living-room of the officers’ quarters, discussing the probability of our having to remain at St. Michael, Alaska, another month.

Oosilik gave a loud rap, and lifting the latch, he forced open the frozen door so that his furry head, bristling with icicles, appeared at the opening, and as he wedged himself in by inches, he snorted and puffed like a walrus under the harpoon, and continued to wriggle until his fat, round body had squeezed through the narrow opening and he stood before us in the firelight.

When every eye was upon him, Oosilik smiled with satisfaction and rubbed his sides with both hands. Then he told us, in his choppy, grunting way, his bit of news, which was this: that the two drivers with the pulks, or sleds, that we had anxiously expected for the last two weeks, had arrived, and that we were to start on the following morning at sunrise for Port Clarence. We questioned Oosilik about the reindeer and the condition of the pulks after their long journey, but he would tell us nothing, and to all our questions he had the same reply: a knowing twinkle in his small black eyes, and a toss of the head.

The next morning we hurned out of our bearskin beds to dress for the ride behind the reindeer, with the thermometer at forty degrees below zero, and the sun pale as a glass bead in the white sky. To protect ourselves from the bitter Rh