"You can't study life without taking it," he said. I thought he was referring to the magazine. "My family have been taking it since Vol. 1, No. 1," I retorted, "and you know perfectly well it has always been anti-vivisection." "Who said anything about vivisection?" he demanded, "though for that matter, that's just one of Life's kinks, something that was wished on 'em in a will. Let me kill a few animals first, and I'll cut 'em up, and maybe eat 'em afterward!" He licked his lips greedily. In him, too, dormant appetites were stirring, the blood thirst of the tiger! Strange irony, that he should be the first to go. Nevertheless he brought in some interesting live specimens caught with ingenious snares and traps, among other things numerous birds, ptarmigan, pelican and pemmican and a pair of polar kittens, the young of the Felis-polaris, those quaint cats which always point toward the north.[19] These charming creatures soon became our pets and took avidly to the condensed milk which Sausalito prepared for them. The pair of nesting pemmican who had pre-empted our crow's nest were a source of constant interest. Three magnificent eggs about the size of footballs were jealously watched day and night. Plock informed us that the young birds might hatch any day now and warned us to be ready for interesting developments. Though I believed him I was unprepared for anything as novel as what took place. Fortunately the event transpired on a Sunday--July 23rd to be exact--which was a day of rest. We had just finished divine service when Plock pointed excitedly toward the main truck. "She's going to hatch!" he yelled. The mother bird had risen from the nest. Between her powerful legs she clutched one of the perfect ovates. Circling the Kawa three times she uttered a piercing shriek and dropped the egg. "Key-ryste!" ejaculated Triplett. Plock motioned for silence. The egg struck the floe with a deep boom off our weather lee and a dense cloud of bright orange smoke filled the air in the midst of which we saw the fledgling pemmican in full flight, rising to join its mother. The male or bull pemmican now added himself to the party and together they made off to the edge of the ice bowl where the young one alighted. "Stand back," warned Plock. "Cover up your noses." The saffron laying fumes were drifting toward us, and their odor was overpowering and indescribable. Even as I crouched behind our bulwarks I thought of my old friend Lucien Sentent, the nasal gourmet of Battambang and wished he were with us. He could have had my share! Three times this curious phenomenon was repeated and though vastly diverted we were glad when it was over. Along other lines, Miskin covered a large number of cardboards with maps. He was preparing a folio, "The Pole and its Environs," he called it. A difficulty was that of locating any other point in relation to the Pole. Triplett's science could go no further than it had.