g for big birds--ptarmigan, guillemot and
divers,--when he came on a robust and fierce polar bear, a monstrous
specimen.

The Eskimo had a shotgun, not a rifle. It takes a ball cartridge of
large calibre to do for Mr. Bruin ordinarily--and he can "make his
getaway" with a good deal of lead in him. But the "husky" calmly
walked up close to the bear, and discharged his shotgun pointblank in
the face of the astonished animal. If the hunter had been at a
distance, the bear would have minded the dose about as much as a pinch
of pepper. As it was, the animal was blinded, and turned in fury on
the hunter.

The Eskimo tore off his sealskin tunic and threw it over the bear's
head, the way a bull-fighter confuses a charging bull with a mantilla.
The bear stopped to tear the garment in pieces before proceeding to
kill and devour the owner.

But the delay was fatal to Mr. Bear. In jig-time the hunter had
reloaded the gun. He put the second charge into the bear's head
through the eye,--and the monster expired at his feet.

The boys have bows and arrows; they begin by practising on small birds
and later become proficient with a gun, so that by the time they are
twelve years old they are veteran hunters.

The greatest joy in the life of the Eskimo is to spend a day in a
seal-hunt.

Hours before dawn, the hunter climbs a rock and looks out to sea,
anxious to learn if it will be a good day for his watery business.

Then he gets his breakfast. In the old days, it was a drink of water.
Nowadays, if the Eskimo has learned to like the white man's hot drink,
it may be a cup of coffee.

At any rate, he drinks his breakfast: he doesn't eat it. He says food
in his stomach makes him unhappy in the kayak.

The only food he takes with him is a plug of tobacco. He carries the
kayak to the water, puts his weapons where he can get his hands on
them instantly, climbs into the hole amidship and fastens his jacket
round the circular rim.

He may have to go a dozen miles out to sea. Now and then, to vary the
paddling, he throws a bird-dart. Like the Eskimo harpoon, this dart
and the stick that throws it are most ingenious contrivances, and
beautifully wrought.

The hunter grabs the beak of a wounded bird in his teeth, and with a
wrench breaks the creature's neck. He then ties his prey to the rear
of the kayak and grins at the other hunters.

At the hunting-ground, seals' heads are to be seen everywhere, like
raisins in a pudding. This is