Burial is performed in various ways: the body may be left on a staging concealed in the boughs of a tree, or the tomb may be a hut which was specially constructed for the dying person, or perhaps his remains are cremated. Whatever method is adopted, there is always the greatest fear of death and a return of haunting spirits, which can be kept away only by the observance of certain superstitious practices. The mourners must not eat meat for several days, then they are not to cut it with a knife. The encampment where death takes place is sometimes deserted, and what is most important, the name of the dead must not be mentioned, for the ghost may think he is called if he hears his name. Social gatherings are made happy by the narration of stories which refer to the lives and adventures of animals. Here is one concerning a sea-gull and a raven: the former bird is credited with having kept daylight in a large box until a raven induced him to open the lid. After lighting torches and searching the seashore, the raven returned carrying prickly eggs of the sea urchin, which he strewed before the house of the sea-gull. Next day he made a call on the sea-gull, and found him in bed with his feet full of prickles, which the raven volunteered to take out with a knife. When the operation was in progress, Master Raven said: “You must open the lid of your box and let out some daylight, for I cannot see what I am doing.” So the gull opened the lid a little way, and the visitor continued taking out prickles from the sea-gull’s feet. At last the little bit of daylight was exhausted, and once more the raven asked for more light in order to continue his work. Very reluctantly the sea-gull opened the lid of his “daylight” box, but on this occasion the raven was too quick for him, and forced the lid right open, with the result that daylight rushed out, spread all over the world, and could not be gathered in again. Sea-gull was very much distressed, bitterly he cried, and to-day the Indians say that sea birds flit along the shore, uttering their plaintive cries because of the trick played by the raven so many years ago. CHAPTER IV THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE ESKIMO Long before daybreak the Eskimo housewife rises, and at once supplies the lamp with a new wick and more blubber; and while the breakfast of seal’s flesh is being prepared, the hunter removes the block of snow constituting a door; then, making his way along the under-snow passage where the sleeping dogs lie, he emerges into the open, at which point a piercing Arctic wind greets him. The sledge is cut loose from its ice fetters, and the dogs are harnessed ready for an immediate start.