What is up among the dogs? They are
all howling and running along the beach, and now they have set on one
unfortunate, which is hustled and bitten until he escapes and hobbles
away yelping.
Here is a woman coming to fetch water from the trough. I wish I could
draw her, for she is an odd figure in trousers and high boots. The
tail of her sillapak almost trails on the ground, and in its capacious
hood, a baby is seated looking out on the world with great content.
10 P.M. It has grown dark whilst I have been writing up my diary. What
a concert the dogs are giving us now. They are howling, barking, and
sometimes fairly screaming, each and all contributing their full share
of the unearthly noises. 10.10. All is still: may it last! It is time
I retired to rest, for one must be up betimes; 6 A.M. is the hour in
all these mission-houses, for morning prayers are at 6.30 sharp. One
more look out of my window. The moon is rising above the opposite
hills and casting a broad band of light across the rippling waters.
INTERCHANGE OF VISITS WITH THE ESKIMOES.
"Good luck to you, sir!" That was meant for "Good-bye," and is the
sort of English the Eskimoes to the south of Hopedale have learnt.
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