The sledge on which they travelled was of the very curious and simple construction peculiar to the Esquimaux, and was built by Peter Grim under the direction of Meetuck.  It consisted of two runners of about ten feet in length, six inches high, two inches broad, and three feet apart.  They were made of tough hickory, slightly curved in front, and were attached to each other by cross-bars.  At the stern of the vehicle there was a low back composed of two uprights and a single bar across.  The whole machine was fastened together by means of tough lashings of raw seal-hide, so that, to all appearance, it was a rickety affair, ready to fall to pieces.  In reality, however, it was very strong.  No metal nails of any kind could have held in the keen frost—­they would have snapped like glass at the first jolt—­but the sealskin fastenings yielded to the rude shocks and twistings to which the sledge was subjected, and seldom gave way, or if they did, were easily and speedily renewed without the aid of any other implement than a knife.

But the whip was the most remarkable part of the equipage.  The handle was only sixteen inches in length, but the lash was twenty feet long, made of the toughest seal-skin, and as thick as a man’s wrist near the handle, whence it tapered off to a fine point.  The labour of using such a formidable weapon is so great that Esquimaux usually, when practicable, travel in couples, one sledge behind the other.  The dogs of the last sledge follow mechanically and require no whip, and the riders change about so as to relieve each other.  When travelling, the whip trails behind, and can be brought with a tremendous crack that makes the hair fly from the wretch that is struck; and Esquimaux are splendid shots, so to speak.  They can hit any part of a dog with certainty, but usually rest satisfied with simply cracking the whip—­a sound that produces an answering yell of terror, whether the lash takes effect or not.

Our hunters were clothed in their Esquimau garments, and cut the oddest imaginable figures.  They had a soft, rotund, cuddled-up appearance, that was powerfully suggestive of comfort.  The sledge carried one day’s provisions, a couple of walrus harpoons with a sufficient quantity of rope, four muskets with the requisite ammunition, an Esquimau cooking-lamp, two stout spears, two tarpaulins to spread on the snow, and four blanket sleeping-bags.  These last were six feet long, and just wide enough for a man to crawl into at night, feet first.

“What a jolly style of travelling, isn’t it?” cried Fred, as the dogs sprang wildly forward, tearing the sledge behind them, Dumps and Poker leading and looking as lively as crickets.

“Well now, isn’t it true that wits jump?—­that’s jist what I was sayin’ to meself,” remarked O’Riley, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled the fur-hood farther over his head, crossed his arms more firmly on his breast, and tried to double himself up as he sat there like an overgrown rat.  “I wouldn’t exchange it wid the Lord Mayor o’ London and his coach an’ six—­so I wouldn’t.—­Arrah! have a care, Meetuck, ye baste, or ye’ll have us kilt.”