In the dead of winter a few years ago, two Eskimo women, mother and daughter, were starving in their Igloo on the shores of Baffin Land. The rest of the tribe had gone inland searching for caribou. The older woman, who was lame, had been left behind with her daughter to look after her. They had been provided with a supply of food but the hunters were late in coming back and it had dwindled, little by little, to nothing. In the end the two women had killed and eaten the only dog that had remained with them. They were now helpless, waiting for death, without food of any sort, without fishing tackle and without firearms.

The third day after they had eaten their last scrap of dog meat, the younger woman caught sight of a large seal which was lying on the ice, parallel to the shore about two miles off. The floe had moved a little. Long lanes of clear water had opened up enabling the seal to climb out. It was resting with its head on the edge of the pan ready to dive at the first sign of danger.

To the starving women the seal, weighing four hundred pounds, meant food and life. Their only weapons were a knife and a hatchet. The daughter decided to stalk the seal while the mother, holding the hatchet, squatted on the beach and watched.

To that effect the younger woman, knife in hand, walked along the beach for about three miles. After that, certain to be far enough behind the quarry not to be seen, she walked out on the ice the same distance as it was from shore. Having reached that point, she began stalking the seal in earnest.

It lay with its hind flippers towards her, but every minute or so it would raise its head for a few seconds to scan the horizon. Then the woman, crawling on her hands and knees, would have to remain motionless, lying flat on the ice. Little by little she crept nearer, using every small pinnacle, every little ridge and rough edge of the pans, as a shield.

She was already weak from hunger. The constant strain began to tell on her. The nearer she crawled to the animal, the longer she had to rest and regain her breath. Seals have good ears. The slightest sound of panting would have driven the animal head first into the water.

It took her all day to cover the two miles. During all that time she was in agony at the thought that the seal, tired of dozing, would dive into the sea again before she could reach it. Still, she could not take the risk of hurrying.

Finally, only four feet separated her from the quarry. With the superb self control of the savage she waited several minutes, then, when the seal lowered its head again on the pan, she sprung at it, driving her knife clear through the hind flippers deep into the ice.

With the whole weight of her body thrown on the handle she remained there, pinning the huge animal on the floe. As long as the knife held, the seal, head and shoulders over the edge, could not dive. The infuriated animal tried to turn around and baring its cruel fangs, snapped at her. Its bulk was so huge that the yellow teeth just failed to reach her face.

For an hour the woman and the beast strained against one another. Meanwhile the mother, who had been keeping watch on the shore, was hobbling over the ice towards them in a frenzy of excitement. She knew that her daughter’s strength would have to give way sooner or later and that the time had now come for her to hasten to the rescue.

Screaming shrilly, scrambling from pan to pan, she covered the distance as fast as she could in spite of her lameness. When she reached the seal she attacked it fearlessly. With a few shrewd blows of her hatchet on the head, she dropped it dead in its tracks. Just in time, for her daughter’s hands, bleeding and frozen, were already slipping on the knife’s handle and relaxing their hold.