There the brute lay on his back, tusks upright under the stern; then with a quick flop he dived.

The men did their usual stunts to scare him off.

Up he came fifteen yards away, gave his battle-cry, 'Ook! Ook! Ook!' to warn us to look out for trouble, and came tearing along the surface of Whale Sound like a torpedo boat destroyer, or an unmuffled automobile with a bicycle policeman on its trail.
"I got my rapid-fire gun into the game and sank him; then we made for the nearest cake of ice--and reached it none too soon." [Illustration: HOISTING A WALRUS TO THE DECK OF THE ROOSEVELT] To take up the story where Borup leaves it, when the first wounded walrus had been despatched with a bullet, and the floats were all taken in, an oar was erected in the boat for a signal, and the _Roosevelt_ steamed up.

The floats and the lines were taken over the rail of the ship, the walrus raised to the surface of the water, a hook inserted, and the winch on deck hoisted the monster on board, to be later skinned and cut up by the expert knives of the Eskimos.

While this work was going on, the deck of the ship looked like a slaughterhouse, with the ravenous dogs--at this stage of the journey we had already about one hundred and fifty--waiting, ears erect and eyes sparkling, to catch the refuse thrown them by the Eskimos.
[Illustration: A NARWHAL KILLED OFF CAPE UNION, JULY, 1909.