lack specks dotting the still snow-covered
land; and the voices of children could be heard in faint but merry
shouts and peals of laughter, as their owners, like still smaller
specks, romped about. One of those specks Rooney recognised, from its
intense blackness, to be his friend Tumbler, and a smaller and lighter
speck he guessed to be Pussi, from the circumstance of its persistently
following and keeping close to the raven-clad hero.

The pleased look with which Rooney at first regarded the children slowly
passed away, and was replaced by one of profound sadness; for how could
he escape dejection when he thought of a sweet Irish wife and little
ones, with a dear old grandmother, whom he had left in the old country,
and who must long before that time have given him up as dead?

His melancholy thoughts were dissipated by a sudden increase in the
shouting of the little ones. On regarding them attentively, he observed
that they scattered themselves in the direction of the several huts, and
disappeared therein.

Well did Rooney know that the movement meant breakfast, and having a
personal interest in that game, he left his perch and the glorious view,
and hastened down.

After breakfast the entire community went with one consent to witness
the singing combat. It was to take place on the ice near the scene of
the recent kick-ball game, close to the berg of the sea-green cave. The
people were much elated, for these savages were probably as much
influenced by brilliant spring weather as civilised folk are, though not
given to descant so much on their feelings. They were also in that
cheerful frame of mind which results from what they correctly referred
to as being stuffed; besides, much fun was expected from the contest.
Lest our readers should anticipate similar delight, we must repeat that
Eskimos are a simple folk, and easily pleased.

"Won't it be a tussle?" remarked Issek, who marched in the centre of a
group of women.

"It will, for Ujarak is tough. He is like a walrus," responded an
admirer of the wizard.

"Poo!" exclaimed the mother of Ippegoo contemptuously; "he can indeed
roar like the walrus, but he can do nothing else."

"Yes; and his strength goes for nothing," cried a sympathiser, "for it
is his brain, not his body, that has got to work."

"We shall see," said Kabelaw, whose sister remarked--"if we are not
blind."

This mild observation was meant for a touch of pleasantry. Little
touches of