CHAPTER XV

OFF WITH THE ESKIMOS

The tide had left the bay drained, on the farther side and well toward
the bottom of which the Post stands, and between us and the buildings
was a lake of soft mud. There seemed no approach for the canoe, and
rather than sit idly until the incoming tide covered the mud again so
that we could paddle in, we carried our belongings high up the side of
the hill, safely out of reach of the water when it should rise, and
then started to pick our way around the face of the clifflike hill,
with the intention of skirting the bay and reaching the Post at once
from the upper side.

It was much like walking on the side of a wall, and to add to our
discomfiture night began to fall before we were half way around, for
it was slow work. Once I descended cautiously to the mud, thinking
that I might be able to walk across it, but a deep channel filled with
running water intercepted me, and I had to return to Easton, who had
remained above. We finally realized that we could not get around the
hill before dark and the footing was too uncertain to attempt to
retrace our steps to the canoe in the fading light, as a false move
would have hurled us down a hundred feet into the mud and rocks below.
Fortunately a niche in the hillside offered a safe resting place, and
we drew together here all the brush within reach, to be burned later
as a signal to the Post folk that some one was on the hill, hoping
that when the tide rose it would bring them in, a boat to rescue us
from our unpleasant position. When the brush was arranged for firing
at an opportune time we sat down in the thickening darkness to watch
the lights which were now flickering cozily in the windows of the Post