As the boats draw nearer, the seals sometimes slide off into the water. The hunters are quick to see any movement on the part of the seals. As soon as one moves toward the water, the men in the boat begin to shout as loudly as they can. The seal is so astonished by the unusual noise that he lies still awhile to think it over. Then the hunter takes aim, and if he shoots the animal through the head, it drops down on the ice again and dies. The other seals near by are not disturbed. They seem to think that their companion has gone quietly to sleep again, and that there can be no danger. Often several seals are shot in this way before the rest become alarmed. Sometimes the shooter misses his mark and wounds the seal instead of killing him instantly. The wounded seal in his pain splashes around on the ice and in the water, and the others take fright and plunge into the sea. A great deal, therefore, depends upon the skill of the shooters, most of whom are accurate marksmen. When several seals have been shot, the men in the boat spring to the floes where they are lying and skin them. The skinning is done rapidly with long, sharp knives, and nothing is saved except the skin and the layer of blubber lying next it. The entire body of the seal is left on the ice. The Eskimos would think this practice very wasteful, for they make use of every part of the seal, including the bones. As sealers sometimes return from a trip to Denmark strait with five thousand skins aboard, it is not surprising that seals are becoming scarce in that locality. Nansen was glad when the haul of seals was over and the _Jason_ steamed away again toward Greenland. Several times the coast had been sighted, but the ship had never drawn near enough to make it possible to land. Balto was not very well pleased with his first glimpse of Greenland. In his account of his voyage, he said that the coast had no beauty nor charm to the eye, but was dismal and hideous to look upon; that the mountain peaks were very high and rose like church steeples into the clouds, which hid the summits. But Nansen thought the coast beautiful. The snow-covered peaks glittered in the sunlight and extended as far as the eye could reach, while far to the west stretched the vast white plain of inland ice. On July 17, 1888, as the _Jason_ was not more than ten or twelve miles from the coast of Greenland, Nansen made up his mind to leave the ship. All the baggage was brought on deck, farewells were said, and at seven o’clock in the evening Nansen and his five companions climbed down the ship’s ladder and embarked in two boats. The _Jason’s_ guns saluted; the _Jason’s_ crew cheered. But deep down in their hearts the sailors believed that Nansen and his men were going to certain death. No thought of fear, however, disturbed the brave band. With the exception of Balto and Ravna, they were all delighted to enter upon the perilous journey.