CHAPTER XVII.
MUSK-OXEN AT LAST On the next march we had gone only some six or seven miles when, rounding a point on the eastern shore of the Inlet, we saw black dots on a distant hillside.
"_Oomingmuksue!_" said Ooblooyah, excitedly, and I nodded to him, well pleased.
To the experienced hunter, with one or two dogs, seeing musk-oxen should be equivalent to securing them.

There may be traveling over the roughest kind of rough country, with wind in the face and cold in the blood; but the end should always be the trophies of hides, horns, and juicy meat.
For myself, I never associate the idea of sport with musk-oxen--too often in the years gone by the sighting of those black forms has meant the difference between life and death.

In 1896, in Independence Bay, the finding of a herd of musk-oxen saved the lives of my entire party.

On my way back from 87 deg.

6', in 1906, if we had not found musk-oxen on Nares Land, the bones of my party might now be bleaching up there in the great white waste.
When we saw the significant black dots in the distance, we headed for them.