Those sentences were: "I have often been asked: Of what use are Eskimos to the world?
They are too far removed to be of value for commercial enterprises and, furthermore, they lack ambition.

They have no literature nor, properly speaking, any art.

They value life only as does a fox, or a bear, purely by instinct.

But let us not forget that these people, trustworthy and hardy, will yet prove their value to mankind.

With their help, the world shall discover the Pole." The hope that had been expressed in this language so long before was in my mind as I saw my old friends coming out to meet us in their tiny kayaks, for I realized that I was once more in contact with these faithful dwellers of the North, who had been my constant companions for so many years, through all the varying circumstances and fortunes of my arctic work, and from whom I was again to select the pick and flower of the hunters of the whole tribe, extending from Cape York to Etah, to assist in this last effort to win the prize.
[Illustration: ESKIMO IN KAYAK] Since 1891 I had been living and working with these people, gaining their absolute confidence, making them my debtors for things given them, earning their gratitude by saving, time after time, the lives of their wives and children by supplying them with food when they were on the verge of starvation.