The penalty imposed often takes the form of some abstinence to be observed for a time. When the illness has been brought about by gluttony or exposure, this injunction, joined to a period of rest and quietness, may prove quite enough to restore the patient to his accustomed health. Nature does her own work. Should there have been some real fear or disquiet of mind, the whole thing simply resolves itself into a faith cure. Incidentally, the Angatok maintains his inflated authority, and earns a fat livelihood. He exacts payment, of course—a dog, a sled, a skin, a [[234]]length of line, and the favours of the patient’s wife; and prescribes the use of various charms. These charms may be a fringe of deer or bearskin, a spider or beetle sewn up in a piece of skin, worn on boot or breast or back, as directed. Most potent of all is a scrap of the garment worn during the first year of life, and this is always affixed to the cap or hood. Then, of course, a present has to be given to the spirit. Some small article is placed among the rocks and dedicated. [[235]]
CHAPTER XVII
Sport and Hunting
A whole book could be written on Eskimo sport and on the Eskimo methods of hunting generally. These methods are based, of course, on an intimate knowledge and experience of the habits and characters of the arctic birds and animals. Something has already been said in this connection about seals and seal hunting. But a little space must now be devoted to some account of a few more of these methods and adventures.
With the coming of March, the sealing season has set in. The days begin to draw out, the sun climbs higher in the heavens, and even sheds a faint warmth now on the lee side of shelter, if there be no movement in the air. The seals are arriving in droves, and their young are being born in their caves under the snow, all over the wide expanse of the ice off shore.
A spirit of restlessness seizes upon the tribesfolk. The hunting weapons are gladly brought out for examination and getting in readiness; the small hunting sleds are put in order; the heavy winter deerskin clothing is laid aside and the lighter garments of summer sealskin put in thorough repair, to don as [[236]]soon as the tribe shall be ready to move off en masse to the sealing grounds. Mysterious meetings take place between the Angakooeet and the chiefs, when the spring campings are fully discussed and arranged among them.
At last the great day arrives when, with much shouting and bustle, the sleds are loaded and the dogs harnessed. Each hunter and his wife assemble and pack their belongings—the lamp, the cooking pot, the box of small tools, the large knife for building (i.e., for cutting out blocks of snow), spears, lines, spare skins for clothing, etc., etc., etc. The baby is popped into the mother’s hood; the boy takes up his station by the team, to learn to drive and manage it, and with many a shout, much touching of noses in farewell, cracking of whips, laughter and joking, each outfit pulls out and drives away, off into the frozen bay.
The old folk are left behind in the village, to await the end of the season, to dress the skins brought in to them every now and again by boys returning from the camps. Sealmeat abounds; everyone gorges to Eskimo repletion and lives in luxury. The ground is covered with skins, pegged out to dry in the sun, prior to being scraped, washed, and prepared for making up.
The newly flensed hide is first freed from its inner layer of fat and blubber, and this is rendered down for oil for the lamps. The fur is then washed with warm water to remove the grease. Then small holes are pierced all round the edge of the skin, and the [[237]]whole is pegged out to its full extent on a frame, or merely on the ground, to dry and sweeten and bleach in the genial brightness of the arctic spring day. After this process, the inner membrane is first pared off, and the skin is ready to be tailored. Everyone left behind in the village on shore is kept busy at this sort of work.