Gaff or paddle in hand, the Aleut
leaps from rock to rock, or dashes among the tumbling beds of tossed
kelp. A quick blow of the bludgeon; the otter never knows how death
came. This is the club hunt. But where the shore is honeycombed with
caves and narrow inlets of kelp fields, is a safer kind of hunting.
Huge nets now made of twine, formerly of sinew, with wooden floaters
above, iron sinkers below, are spread athwart the kelp fields. The
tide sweeps in, washing the net flat. And the sea-otter swim in with
the tide. The tide sweeps out, washing the net up, but the otter are
enmeshed in a tangle that holds neck and feet. This is, perhaps, the
{72} best kind of otter hunting, for the females and young can be
thrown back in the sea.
Barely has the supply schooner dipped over the offing, when the
cockle-shell bidarkas skimming over the sea make for the shore of the
hunting-grounds. Camping is a simple matter, for no fires are to be
lighted, and the tenting place is chosen if possible on the north side
of some knoll. If it is warm weather, the Aleut will turn his skin
skiff upside down, crawl into the hole head first and sleep there.
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