r--they can see it shining black and white in
the far distance. It towers aloft so that the sky is almost hidden. In
a moment they have stuck their paddles under the thongs on the windward
side and bent their bodies forward so that the crest of the wave breaks
upon their backs. For a second almost everything has disappeared; those
who are further a-lee await their turn in anxiety; then the billow
passes, and once more the kaiaks skim forward as before. But such a sea
does not come singly; the next will be worse. They hold their paddles
flat to the deck and projecting to windward, bend their bodies forward,
and at the moment when the white cataract thunders down upon them they
hurl themselves into its very jaws, thus somewhat breaking its force.
For a moment they have again disappeared--then one kaiak comes up on
even keel, and presently another appears bottom upwards. It is Pedersuak
(_i.e._ the big Peter) who has capsized. His comrade speeds to his side,
but at the same moment the third wave breaks over them and he must look
out for himself. It is too late--the two kaiaks lie heaving bottom
upwards. The second manages to right himself, and his first thought is
for his comrade, to whose assistance he once more hastens. He runs his
kaiak alongside of the other, lays his paddle across both, bends down so
that he gets hold under the water of his comrade's arm, and with a jerk
drags him up upon his side, so that he too can get hold of the paddle
and in an instant raise himself upon even keel. The water-tight jacket
has come a little loose from the ring on one side and some water has got
in; not so much, however, but that he can still keep afloat. The others
have in the meantime come up; they get hold of the lost paddle, and all
can again push forward.

[Illustration: A KAIAK-MAN RESCUING A COMRADE]

It grows worse and worse for those who have seals in tow; they lag far
behind, and the great beasts lie heaving and jarring against the sides
of the kaiaks. They think of sacrificing their prey, but one difficult
sea pass