of rotten walrus-flesh, frozen, which is esteemed one of the greatest delicacies that can be offered to one's friends. It is by no means an easy matter to get high meat up there, where the thermometer so seldom indicates many degrees above zero, even in the height of summer. It is only the spring catch that can be kept long enough to get high, and even that will take the whole summer to turn green. When you have grown. accustomed to the taste, this "issuangnerk," as they call it, is really a very pleasant change from all the fresh meat.
Sorqaq, or, as his name would be in English, "The Whalebone," stood in the middle of the floor, and chopped up a whole side of walrus with an axe; when each had received a fair-sized piece, he sat down and the eating proceeded in, silence. "Conversation and food, each for itself," as the Eskimo says. Only when the needs of the stomach had been satisfied did the tongues have their turn.
"Old Whalebone" was known as the finest bear-hunter in the tribe; but it was difficult to persuade him to tell stories of the chase.
"One must not talk about bear-hunting," he used to say; "if one's thoughts turn upon bears, then drive out and kill some. But sit inside and prate about them? no, leave that to old women; they are never backward when it is a case of chattering. But we men, we drive out one day with our dogs, and if we see a bear, it is not long before its meat is in our cooking-pot. I have nothing else to say!"
Show us thy back, Sorqaq!" one of the young ones ventured to say.
"Thy speech is the speech of a boy," replied the old man loftily. "Hast thou ever seen a rugged ice-covered mountain? Thy back will certainly never look like that; no bear will ever deign to make a scar on thee!" And then he rose and chopped off fresh pieces of meat, which were distributed to the company.
Sorqaq was a passionate lover of dogs, and a very clever breeder. He had a special predilection for black animals. He had devoted great care to the breeding of them and had
