My Eskimo Friends (1924)

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68 MY ESKIMO FRIENDS June came in with days long and gloriously warm. Houseflies buzzed over the sunlit panes of our windows. Bumblebees hovered among the mosses. Young would-be hunters with miniature bows and arrows stalked for yellowlegs, and aimed mockingly at the flocks of geese that came sailing overhead. Wetalltok, old Tookalook, and their families squatted by their kayak frames, put on fresh sealskin covers, while Bill worked upon the Nastapoka^ which stood by. Hunting-gear and summer clothes had long since been made. The Nastapoka stood ready to slide into the sea. On the memorable seventeenth of June we were awakened by a strangely familiar sound. It was the wash of surf.