he
mothers of Arbalik and Ippegoo with the spinster Sigokow arrived, the
southern Eskimos resumed their route northward, and the pursuers
continued their journey to the south--the former in their sledges over
the still unmelted ice-foot along the shore; the latter, in kayaks, by a
lead of open water, which extended as far as the eye could reach.

Angut, Okiok, and Simek led the way in kayaks, the kayak damaged by the
seal having been repaired. The other men were forced to embark in the
women's boat. Eskimo men deem this an undignified position, and will
not usually condescend to work in oomiaks, which are invariably paddled
by the women, but Rooney, being influenced by no such feelings, quietly
took the steering paddle, and ultimately shamed Arbalik and Ippegoo as
well as the sons of Okiok into lending a hand.

During the first part of the voyage all went well, but next day the lead
of open water was found to trend off the land, and run out into the
pack, where numerous great glaciers were seen--some aground, others
surging slowly southward with the Polar current.

"I don't like the look of it," remarked Angut, when the other leaders of
the party ranged alongside of him for a brief consultation.

"Neither do I," said Simek. "The season is far advanced, and if there
should be a general break-up of the ice while we are out among the
floes, we should be lost."

"But it is impossible for us to travel by land," said Okiok. "No man
knows the land here. The sea runs so far in that we might spend many
moons in going round the bays without advancing far on our journey."

"So there is nothing left for us but to go on by water," said Angut,
with decision. "Nunaga must be rescued."

"And so must Tumbler," said Okiok.

"And so must Pussi," said Simek.

"What are you fellows consulting about?" shouted Red Rooney, coming up
at that moment with the others in the oomiak.

"We are talking of the danger of the ice breaking up," answered Angut.
"But there is no other way to travel than by the open lead, so we have
decided to go on."

"Of course you have," returned Rooney; "what else can we do? We _must_
risk something to save Nunaga, Pussi, and Tumbler, to say nothing of
Kabelaw. Get along, my hearties!"

How Rooney translated the last phrase into Eskimo is a point on which we
can throw no light,--but no matter.

In a short time the party reached the neighbourhood of one of the
largest bergs, one of those gigantic m