kimo is very fair in his division of the kill. They often give a portion of the kill to those present, even though they take no active part. When his two companions at last arrived, the three formed in a half circle perhaps a hundred feet from the herd. It was not sportsmanlike, but simply a killing for meat. It was meat and hides that they were after, so they did their work with their high power modern rifles as quickly as possible. In almost as short a time as it takes to tell it the herd of Omingmongs were kicking in the snow all dead or mortally wounded.
But one tragic thing occurred which was not on the hunter's program. The herd had come to bay very close to the further side of the mountain, so that when the firing was nearly over the last three musk ox managed to struggle to the edge of the mountain and when shot toppled over the side and went sliding like woolly toboggans down the mountainside.
The half starved Eskimo dogs, who had been driven frantic by the smell of blood were quick to notice the three Omingmong
