During the next few days the boys made a number of unsuccessful hunting-expeditions, and their failure decided us to return to Redcliffe. The mercury had already descended at nights to –4°, yet I did not feel the low temperature, and indeed had not felt uncomfortably cold for more than a few minutes at a time. On the 9th, at noon, just half the disk of the sun appeared over the top of the mountain back of the glacier, and it was evident that we were in the shadow of the Arctic winter. Two days later we saw the first aurora—not a good one, however.
Monday, October 12. Back again at Redcliffe. In the evening Matt came in very much excited, saying that there was a moving light on the opposite shore. We all rushed out to see it. How queer it seems to be the only human beings on this coast! Ikwa said Eskimos were eating their supper, and would be here to-morrow. Astrup fired a rifle.
Tuesday, October 13. About three o’clock this afternoon Mané came in and said “Innuit” (Eskimo) was coming with “kamutee” (sledge) and “mikkie” (dog). We ran out, and with the aid of the glass saw two Eskimos, one of them Ikwa, and a sledge drawn by three dogs. The strange “husky” turned out to be Nowdingyah, whose deserted camp we visited last month. He is much larger in every way than Ikwa, and seems bright and intelligent. When offered a knife in exchange for one of his dogs, he said the dog we wanted was the leader of his team of bear-dogs, specially trained, but he would come again by and by and then give us three others. We have now little difficulty in understanding the natives, or making ourselves understood by signs.
Saturday, October 17. The weather still continues lovely, although the days are rapidly getting shorter. Late Thursday night Ikwa, who had departed with our visitor, returned, telling us that the natives where Nowdingyah lived would soon come over to see us; he also said that Nowdingyah had seven puppy-dogs, and this is why he was so willing to give us three. Ikwa has been laying in a supply of sealskins for a tupic and kayak, and says he will need fifteen for these articles alone; he will require an additional supply for kamiks for himself and family. The seal is evidently the most valuable animal of the chase to the natives, who utilize every particle of it for food or clothing. About three o’clock we discovered the boys, who had gone to Five-Glacier Valley, on the opposite side of the bay, coming across the ice, and about an hour later they arrived jubilant with a load of ten deerskins, one blue fox, and one Arctic hare. Gibson had also shot two seals, which they could not, however, bring with them, as the ice was too thin for the hunters to reach their booty. Still later Ikwa came in, and said “Innuits pingersut” (Eskimos three), “kamutee martluk” (sledges two), were coming; and in a few minutes Nowdingyah, Arrotochsuah, and Kayunah landed with two sledges and five dogs. Arrotochsuah is an old man with gray hair, but looks exactly like a woman; Kayunah is a young man, stutters badly, and while he has a decidedly idiotic appearance he has a fox-like expression about the eyes and nose, and accordingly he has been dubbed the “Fox.” Nowdingyah is the only one of the Eskimos who has hair on his face, and he has a little mustache and imperial which give to him something of a Japanese touch.
Arrotochsuah Fashioning a Spear.
Sunday, October 18. Mr. Peary has been on the jump all day, getting odds and ends to trade with the natives. He has secured three very fine seal-spears, one walrus-lance—all with fine lines of walrus-hide—an “ikkimer” (soapstone blubber lamp), a drill, and two dogs and a sledge. The natives left early in the afternoon, the old man being tired, having been obliged to sleep out on the beach on his sledge, with no shelter, as there was no room in Ikwa’s igloo; he walked about the greater part of the night to keep warm.
Monday, October 19. Astrup and Verhoeff went to-day to Cape Cleveland, and put up a flag-pole and signal for use in surveying. Mr. Peary is fixing up my lockers with cardboard, preparatory to putting up the curtains. So far the weather has been fine; we have full moon, and this makes it seem less like night, but at 8 A. M. it is still quite dark. From about eleven until two, the coloring on land, ice, snow, and sky is beautiful, all the delicate shades being brought out to best advantage. We took two short strolls, fixed up the curtains about the range and lockers, and then I did a little sewing. To-night the wind is blowing fiercely from the south.
Wednesday, October 21. Last night we had our first wind-storm since the second night of our encampment here, when I was in the tent alone with Mr. Peary, who was strapped down to a plank. The wind rattled things in a lively manner, and the boys on duty had to go out every fifteen minutes and inspect the premises to see that nothing was loosened or blown away. This wind from the southeast continued until five o’clock this morning, when it abated somewhat. The day has been cloudy. The boys have put up a snow-hut for the dogs, and one for their own convenience, in which to experiment with their fur clothing and sleeping-bags.
Thursday, October 22. My brother Henry’s birthday. We drank his health and prosperity in a bottle of Haute Sauterne, as we did my brother Emil’s eleven days before. My husband and I are keeping house alone. All the boys have gone on a deer hunting expedition, while Ikwa, with the dogs, is after hares. We have had Mané here all day at work on a pattern deerskin stocking. The day has been dark and cloudy, and it has snowed lightly.