So on that day upon which they reached the Palugmiut upon the bay of seals, Geoff with Eric and Latham and Koeher and the other men from the Viborg joined in the watch for seal. At that season the seal, of course, were living under the sea ice. As this ice had frozen over the bay the seals had gnawed holes in it for air, and as the freezing continued had kept these holes open by gnawing. These holes were now hidden under the snow, and the Eskimo dogs were used to smell them out. Beside each hole thus located a hunter stationed himself, sitting silent on a block of snow, spear in hand, ready to stab instantly when an animal rose. If the blow missed, the seal disappeared; if it struck home, the hunter had to hold the killed seal with his spear, while with ice-axe or knife he chipped the breathing hole large enough to pull the seal through.
Day after day, in the manner of the Eskimos, the eight white men sat, each on his block of snow, seal spear poised. Seal hunting offered their only hope of obtaining food, their only way of keeping alive. The feeling of incredulity that such a desperate necessity could
