Poor fellow! he had done the best he could, and had at any rate shown a
willing spirit.
[Illustration: ESQUIMAUX GOING TO THE HUNTING-GROUND.]
It was not until Wednesday that the boat party could get away. Most of
the time it rained and blew a perfect gale. We were then alone in the
camp, with the exception of a tupic, which contained one old man, two
old women, and three children. There were plenty of dogs, though, and
we had concerted music every night. I spent some time in making over
some civilized clothes for my boy. I had to take them in everywhere
except around the waist. There he was as big as I am, though I weigh
nearly two hundred pounds.
I returned from a hunting and exploring excursion Saturday night,
August 31, and had come to the conclusion by that time, after
satisfactory experience, that tuk-too hunting is not a pastime. It is
good, solid work from beginning to end, with no rest for the weary. If
any readers have meditated such a task as a divertisement, I would beg
to dissuade them from the undertaking, for they know not what they do.
Before attempting to follow tuk-too hunters over these hills and
valleys, I would advise a severe course of training. We started on the
morning of the 25th, in the midst of a strong gale, which had been
blowing all night from the north-west, and was bitter cold.
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