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ollection of just what I said and I made no diary entry,
but Noice has recorded that my comment was, “Well,
boys, we seem to have found at last one of those barren
arctic islands that we have read so much about!”

After a night of gloom and a breakfast of forced cheer-
fulness the sick men and Emiu again proceeded along the
coast while I hunted inland. About five miles from the
camp I discovered some old caribou tracks, and a little
later others not so old. Then I came upon the fresh trail
of about twenty caribou.

It was now only a question of patience, for nine years
of living in the Arctic by hunting had naturally put me
in possession of the necessary technique for getting cari-
bou. Hunting is much like any other skilled occupation;
the things that seem difficult to the apprentice and impos-
sible to the outsider are matters of routine to the adept.
There are good hunters in every part of the world; but
arctic hunters are few and the conditions peculiar, so
that it may be worth while to tell just how you go about
it when securing any particular animal is a matter of
life and death. In a good game country we often proceed
carelessly, thinking that if we don’t get this band; we
shall soon find another. But the previous day had con-
vinced me that Ellef Ringnes Island is by no means a
paradise for game. Our plight and the fewness of cari-
bou made it imperative that I should get the animals
that had made this trail. Luckily it was the season of
perpetual daylight, so that I had on my side the most
important element of a successful hunt—unlimited time.

When there is wind, caribou ordinarily travel facing it.
Had there been a wind, I could, therefore, have taken
the trail with a certainty of catching up within a few
hours, for they never travel fast unless scared by wolves.

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