Reaching the mouth of the inlet, we kept on down its eastern shore, finding very good going; for the tides rising in the crack next the shore had saturated the overlying snow, then freezing had formed a narrow but smooth surface for the sledges.
A part of this shore was musk-ox country, and we scanned it carefully, but saw none of the animals.

Some miles down the bay we came upon the tracks of a couple of deer.

A little farther on we were electrified by a tense whisper from the ever sharp-sighted Egingwah: "_Nanooksoah!_" He was pointing excitedly toward the center of the fiord, and following the direction of his finger we saw a cream-colored spot leisurely moving toward the mouth of the fiord--a polar bear! If there is anything that starts the blood lust in an Eskimo's heart more wildly than the sight of a polar bear, I have yet to discover it.
Hardened as I am to arctic hunting, I was thrilled myself.
[Illustration: POLAR BEAR, ARRANGED BY "FROZEN TAXIDERMY" AND PHOTOGRAPHED BY FLASHLIGHT] While I stood in front of the dogs with a whip in each hand, to keep them from dashing away--for the Eskimo dog knows the meaning of "_nanooksoah_" as well as his master--the three men were throwing things off the sledges as if they were crazy.
When the sledges were empty, Ooblooyah's team shot by me, with Ooblooyah at the up-standers.

Egingwah came next, and I threw myself on his sledge as it flew past.

Behind us came Koolatoonah with the third team.