us--a regular dive-tackle.

"He was a large bull that an Eskimo had harpooned. He showed what he was
made of by promptly attacking the float and putting it out of
commission, then he proceeded to make off with the harpoon, float, and
all. He happened to come near my end of the boat, and I shot at him; but
whether I hit the mark or not I do not know. Anyhow, he dived, and
while we were all looking over the side for him to appear, our craft
was hit a tremendous whack by something under the stern--so hard that it
upset the bosun, who was standing there peacefully sculling.

"Our friend was getting a little too strenuous; but he dived before I
could shoot again, and came up fifty yards off. Then I hit him with a
bullet, and he disappeared. Maybe we were not an anxious crowd in that
boat for the next few minutes, as we knew that that submarine earthquake
was due for another blow-up at any instant--but when and where! We
stared at the surface of the water, to see if possible from what
direction the next attack would come.

"One more such scrimmage as the last and we would be all in--both
literally and metaphorically; for he had put a big hole through the
bottom of the boat, and as she had a double bottom we could not check
the leak, and one man had to bale rapidly. We always carried along a lot
of old coats to stop holes in the boats, but in this case they might as
well have been pocket handkerchiefs.

"Suddenly an Eskimo who was looking over the side yelled: '_Kingeemutt!
Kingeemutt!_' ('Back her! Back her!') But the words were hardly out of
his mouth when--smash! rip! bang!--the stern of the boat rose under the
shock, the bosun was nearly knocked overboard, an Eskimo catching him on
the fly, and a hole I could have put both fists through suddenly
appeared within an inch of his foot, just above the water line.

"I looked over the gunwale. There the brute lay on his back, tusks
upright under the stern; then with a quick flop he dived. The men did
their usual stunts to scare him off. Up he came fifteen yards away, gave
his battle-cry, 'Ook! Ook! Ook!' to warn us to look out for trouble, and
came tearing along the surface of Whale Sound like a torpedo boat
destroyer, or an unmuffled automobile with a bicycle policeman on its
trail.

"I got my rapid-fire gun into the game and sank him; then we made for
the nearest cake of ice--and reached it none too soon."

[Illustration: HOISTING A WALRUS TO THE DECK OF THE ROOSEVELT]