Wednesday, July 6. Another sunshiny day. Yesterday morning two Eskimo boys came in, and reported that a whole troop of natives were at Ittiblu on their way over from Netchiolumy. They are compelled to go up the gulf this far in order to cross on the ice above the open water.
The open water has now nearly reached Redcliffe, and is full of birds. About five o’clock this morning fourteen natives arrived, among whom are Mekhtoshay (the one-eyed man) and his wife and boy, and Ingyahpahdu and his six children. The one-eyed man brought his tent with him, a very small one, but the others are camping with their neighbors—a privilege which is generally permitted in traveling. We have taken advantage of these numerous arrivals to continue our series of ethnological photographs, and the doctor has been kept busy posing, grouping, etc. Our settlement now numbers thirty-four natives, men, women, and children.
Gibson has started off on a ten days’ collecting-tour to the head of the bay. He will leave the tent in Tooktoo Valley for me, and I shall go as soon as he returns, taking provisions enough to last till August 6th. If Mr. Peary has not returned by that time then I shall come back to the house and get everything ready for our homeward journey in the early autumn.
Thursday, July 7. I determined to take advantage of the fine weather we are having and get rid of some washing to-day. I also put Noyah, Mané’s little one, in the tub and gave her a good scrubbing. She actually looked quite cute, and after getting over her surprise at being plunged into the water, enjoyed it, laughing and splashing. It seems odd to see the children so backward. This child, who is already two years old, has just begun to stand alone, and in all other respects she is like a child at home of ten months or a year. M’gipsu’s baby is a year old, but in size and mental development compares with a five-months-old white baby. To-night we finished taking the photographs and measurements of the Eskimos.
Sunday, July 10. The day has been bright, warm, and sunny. At eight o’clock this morning the thermometer in the sun registered 92° and still it would be called a cool, pleasant day at home. The doctor tore down the shed back of my room in order to give the sun a chance to melt the ice and dry the things under it.
Ikwa killed an “oogzook” this morning while out in his kayak. It took three men all day to bring in the skin and part of the carcass. Ikwa says he has to divide the skin among all the men in the settlement, even Kyoshu the cripple coming in for a share. It is the rule that every animal killed, larger than a seal, must be divided among all the men in the community, regardless of their share in the securing of it.
Monday, July 11. When I awoke this morning I heard Matt and the doctor talking very earnestly, but could not hear what they were saying; from their tone I judged it was something serious. Finally I called to the doctor and asked him what the trouble was. He told me that Matt had overheard Kyo and Kulutingwah planning to make away with one of us. I could not help laughing at this recital, which provoked the doctor a little; we had laughed at similar stories related by Arctic explorers, and had agreed that these natives were not at all inclined to be warlike or vindictive. I tried to reason with the boys. In the first place, if the natives had any such design, would they not have kept the three men here who left for Karnah yesterday? Secondly, would they be likely to come over to our house and discuss their plans? And thirdly, do any of us know enough of their language to understand a conversation in which the participants are not even to be seen? The whole thing seemed very amusing to me, but both boys were evidently frightened, and wanted to be armed and ready for any emergency; consequently, I gave the doctor Mr. Peary’s pistol to carry and Matt my large one, and they have worn them all day. Matt imagined he knew the cause of the whole thing, namely, Kyo was mad because I had stopped his coffee and bread in the morning; he had blamed Matt for it, and so Matt felt certain he was to be the victim. The fact is, however, that Kyo got his coffee as usual this morning. I had intended to stop it, but as Mané was sick and did not care for her share, there was enough to go round. The doctor, more than any one else, has reason to fear Kyo, as Kyo makes no secret of his dislike for him.
A FRIENDLY “TUPIC” AND ITS INHABITANTS.
(Looking out of McCormick Bay.)
One year ago to-night was the most miserable night I had ever spent. Mr. Peary had broken his leg, and for a few hours I did not know whether he would ever be able to use it again; to-night I do not even know that he is alive. I feel very certain, however, that a month will solve this question for me, and so am determined not to worry any more.