Or
he may erect the V-shaped tent such as the prairie tepee. But if it is
cold, he has a better plan yet. He will dig a hole in the ground and
cover over the top with sail-cloth. Let the wind roar above and the
ice bang the shore rocks, the Aleut swathed in furs sleeps sound close
to earth. If driftwood lines the shore, he is in luck; for he props up
the poles, covers them with furs, and has what might be mistaken for a
wigwam, except that these Indians construct their tents round-topped
and always turn the skin side of the fur out.
For provisions, he has brought very little from the ship. He will
depend on the winds driving in a dead whale, or on the fish of the
shore, or on the eggs of the sea-birds that nest on these rocks
millions upon millions--such myriads of birds they seem to crowd each
other for foot room, and the noise of their wings is like a great
wind.[2] The Aleut himself is what any race of men {73} would become
in generations of such a life. His skin is more like bronze than
leather. His chest is like a bellows, but his legs are ill developed
from the cramped posture of knees in the manhole.
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