An oil bag is made by skinning a seal through the mouth, commencing at the lips and turning the skin backward over the head and neck and body as one might turn a sock inside out. By leaving the flippers on unskinned, openings are avoided, and the “poke” is tied at the mouth. When they had made and filled enough bags Taptuna began to pack up. This proved a simple business, for there were no trunks to put things in, and awfully few things to put. Their best winter clothing, the heaviest fur blankets, large cooking pots, wooden food platters, lamps, and oil containers they could spare during the summer; but he was too canny to leave anything behind on that exposed coast where bears prowl continually, when it was possible to take the load with them and cache it among the small islands of Coronation Gulf, which is one of the safest places in the whole Arctic. Polar bears come into the gulf so seldom that many middle-aged people who have spent their lives there have never even seen one.
The first stage of their journey promised anxious moments, for it lay over the ice bridging the dangerous waters of Dolphin and Union Straits. Through this twenty-mile channel, dividing Victoria Island from the mainland, the current runs like a mill race. You doubtless know that running water is always the last to freeze and the first to thaw; the ice is never as thick here as in other places; and late in the spring (it was now May) might not be any too strong to bear a loaded sled. Breaking through the ice and taking a cold plunge into the chilly water underneath is far from pleasant, even when the sun remains shining nearly all night to dry by. Such accidents do happen, however, and on the edge of a floe, where there is little danger except from the wetting, may cause a lot of laughter as the unfortunate victim is pulled out. But to go through into the straits was an entirely different affair. That swiftly racing, cruel tide below would carry a man like a chip, and whirl him instantly, with his first cry for help on his lips, to the black doom of the airless ocean under the ice.
Taptuna decided to travel by night for two reasons: not only would the ice be better, but he was using his damaged sleigh with the musk-ox runner, and had to be very careful that the sun’s rays did not beat on it and thaw out the hide. Every morning when they stopped to camp and sleep, it was his custom to bank snow around the frozen skin plank, so that the summer warmth could not penetrate. He also laid skins on top of the sleigh, making for it a sort of tent; and after sunrise he hung these skins over the edge of the sunny side so that his faked runner slid along in cool shade.
The first stop was to be at Lambert’s Island in the middle of the straits, which is a good camping place because of the driftwood there. Rather than strike out over the ice at once the chief guide led his party in a gentle diagonal from the coast. He walked ahead testing their way every now and then with his pick. Sea ice is not like the fresh-water ice we skate on; instead of being brittle it is elastic, and gives the traveler warning when not strong enough to hold him by bending as he walks over it. Guninana and Noashak came second, while Kak drove the dogs; and Okak, very much scared by the whole adventure, ambled along behind in what he considered the safest place; reasoning that if the load went over the ice would surely be strong enough to bear him. He had not the courage to try imagining what would happen if the load broke through.
Taptuna smiled at this anxiety. He had thought out a scheme for their guidance and was quite sure it would work. At this time of year the caribou migrate in bands from the mainland northward. One day, when he was after seals, he had watched several of these picking their way across the straits. They approached slowly in a very zigzag course, but all got over without any accident so far as he could see. The Eskimo said to himself: “Where they go we can go.” And now he led his family east till they came to the fresh tracks of a good-sized band; by following these to the island, and next evening picking up another track to guide them to the mainland, they were able to cross without any trouble at all.
They camped again, and next afternoon, under a cloudy sky, made good way past Cape Krusenstern. Taptuna welcomed the clouds; they saved him from protecting his sled runner and afforded greater freedom in the hours of travel. By morning the party had reached their little island, made their cache, and were all ready for a good, long sleep.
Everybody rolled out to dinner in wonderful spirits. With their load lightened by half, traveling turned into a lark. A few hours over this solid, smooth bay ice would bring them to Rae River—a pleasant prospect. Guninana smiled, thinking how easy it would be there to go out and get a nice breakfast of fish, and maybe a dinner of fish, and after that a supper of fish in the Eskimo fashion; for these northern folk generally live on one thing at a time, and that the game most readily caught where they may happen to be. Taptuna relaxed, threw his sense of responsibility to the winds and played tag with his children; and Okak came back from a state of blanched fear to his natural color.
Owing to these high jinks they were tired before starting, and it proved to be quite a few miles to Rae River, for their island lay at the outer edge of the group. On they toiled through the gathering gloom, growing more and more weary. Noashak had long ago demanded a ride and was sprawled out over the load, fast asleep. Even her mother felt done.
“We must be nearly there,” she sighed.
“I can see the river now, beyond the rocks yonder,” Okak answered.