Bear-hunting hereabouts has its dangers, for the Eskimos of the north are not armed with bows and arrows as are those of the mainland. When the bear is found the dogs are set upon the trail, and the hunter runs by their side in silence. As he turns the angle ahead his game is in view before him, stalking probably along with quiet march, sometimes sniffing the air suspiciously, but making, nevertheless, for a clump of hummocks. The dogs spring forward, opening in a wild wolfish yell, the driver shrieking "Nannook! nannook!" and all straining every nerve in pursuit. The bear rises on his haunches, views his pursuers, and starts off at full speed. The hunter, as he runs, leaning over his sledge, seizes the traces of a couple of his dogs and liberates them from their burden. It is the work of a minute; for the speed is not checked and the remaining dogs rush on with apparent ease. Pressed more severely, the bear stands at bay while his two foremost pursuers halt at a short distance and quietly await the arrival of the hunter. At this moment the whole pack are liberated; the hunter grasps his lance, and, stumbling through the snow and ice, prepares for the encounter. Grasping the lance firmly in his hands he provokes the animal to pursue him by moving rapidly across its path, and then running as if to escape. But hardly is its long body extended for the tempting chase, before, with a quick jump, the hunter doubles on his track, and, as the bear turns after him again, the lance is plunged into the left side below the shoulder; and that so dexterously, that, if it be an inch or so wide of the proper spot, the spear has to be left in the bear and the man has to run for his life.