O, we are the Innuit people Of the long, bright Arctic day, When the whalers come and the poppies bloom And the ice-floe shrinks away; Afar in the buoyant umiak We feather our paddle blades And laugh in the light of the sunshine bright, Where the white man's schooner trades. O, we are the Innuit people Rosy and brown and gay; And we shout as we sing of the wrestling ring Or toss the ball at play. In frolic chase we oft embrace The waist of a giggling maid As she runs on the sand of the Arctic strand Where the ice-bears bones are laid. O, we are the Innuit people, Content in our northern home; Where the kayak's prow cuts the curling brow Of the breakers snowy foam. The merry Innuit people, Of the cold, gray Arctic sea, Where the breathing whale, the Aurora pale And the snow-white foxes be. There is a diversity of opinion as to the ultimate fate of the native races of the earth. To my mind there is but one answer. Search the wide world over to-day and where will you find a wilderness? There are none which the aggressive white man has not penetrated. And wherever the white man enters the native man begins to disappear. It has always been so, and it always will be so. If only the white man would let them alone! Is it not better to have the vast Arctic spaces people by a native race than to have it unpeopled by anybody? The Eskimos live where no one else on earth can or will live. They are a picturesque and harmless people. In their struggle for existence they have fought valiantly. Surely they have earned the right to exist unmolested, earned it bravely. CHAPTER XVI SOCIAL LIFE IN ALASKA I have more than once been forced to endure the suppressed sympathy of friends who live in the Interior because of my enforced residence on St. Michael. It is a sympathy wholly wasted. St. Michael is a bright, clean little place. There are few mosquitoes,--a fact which in itself is a recommendation. Although the temperature is sometimes very low, and although the Arctic winter sends down some terrific blizzards at times, as a rule the short winter days are bright, still and pleasant. If one wishes sport it is right at hand on the mainland,--wild geese, duck, ptarmigan and caribou. There is also salmon fishing. As a brilliantly-colored thread is sometimes woven into a piece of embroidery I find one vivid memory running through the years I have lived on St. Michael. To me the most wonderful thing in connection with those years is the transformation which takes place each year on the day that the first ship anchors in the Bay. Like the Sleeping Beauty of the fairy tale St. Michael suddenly wakens from her long winter's sleep. No words can describe that awakening. It must be seen to be appreciated.