The man who coined the phrase "greased lightning" must have ridden on an empty sledge behind a team of Eskimo dogs on the scent of a polar bear.
The bear had heard us, and was making for the opposite shore of the fiord with prodigious bounds.

I jumped to the up-standers of the flying sledge, leaving Egingwah to throw himself on it and get his breath, and away we went, wild with excitement, across the snow-covered surface of the fiord.
When we got to the middle the snow was deeper, and the dogs could not go so fast, though they strained ahead with all their might.

Suddenly they scented the trail--and then neither deep snow nor anything else could have held them.

Ooblooyah, with a crazy team and only himself at the up-standers, distanced the rest of us, arriving at the farther shore almost as soon as the leaping bear.

He loosed his dogs immediately, and we could see the bear in the distance, followed by minute dots that looked hardly larger than mosquitoes swarming up the steep slope.