re the
sea-otter must have been driven for refuge by the storm. This hunting
is the very incarnation of the storm spirit itself, for the wilder the
gale, the more sea-otter have come ashore; the less likely they will be
to see or hear or smell the hunter. Gaff or paddle in hand, the Aleut
leaps from rock to rock, or dashes among the tumbling beds of tossed
kelp. A quick blow of the bludgeon; the otter never knows how death
came. This is the club hunt. But where the shore is honeycombed with
caves and narrow inlets of kelp fields, is a safer kind of hunting.
Huge nets now made of twine, formerly of sinew, with wooden floaters
above, iron sinkers below, are spread athwart the kelp fields. The
tide sweeps in, washing the net flat. And the sea-otter swim in with
the tide. The tide sweeps out, washing the net up, but the otter are
enmeshed in a tangle that holds neck and feet. This is, perhaps, the
{72} best kind of otter hunting, for the females and young can be
thrown back in the sea.

Barely has the supply schooner dipped over the offing, when the
cockle-shell bidarkas skimming over the sea make for the shore of the
hunting-grounds. Camping is a simple matter, for no fires are to be
lighted, and the tenting place is chosen if possible on the north side
of some knoll. If it is warm weather, the Aleut will turn his skin
skiff upside down, crawl into the hole head first and sleep there. Or
he may erect the V-shaped tent such as the prairie tepee. But if it is
cold, he has a better plan yet. He will dig a hole in the ground and
cover over the top with sail-cloth. Let the wind roar above and the
ice bang the shore rocks, the Aleut swathed in furs sleeps sound close
to earth. If driftwood lines the shore, he is in luck; for he props up
the poles, covers them with furs, and has what might be mistaken for a
wigwam, except that these Indians construct their tents round-topped
and always turn the skin side of the fur out.

For provisions, he has brought very little from the ship. He will
depend on the winds driving in a dead whale, or on the fish of the
shore, or on the eggs of the sea-birds that nest on these rocks
millions upon millions--such myriads of birds they seem to crowd each
other for foot room, and the noise of their wings is like a great
wind.[2] The Aleut himself is what any race of men {73} would become
in generations of such a life. His skin is more like bronze than
leather. His chest is like a