ation is simple. She had merely dropped into the rut or
hollow under the brow of the hill; and there she lay, covered with
grasses and branches, listening to the growlings of indignation and
astonishment expressed by the men when they re-assembled on the top of
the mound to bewail their bad fortune.

"We've got the old witch, anyhow," growled the fierce robber, with a
scowl at the bundle which was lying perfectly still.

"Away, men," cried their leader, "and search the other side of the
mound. The young witch may have doubled on us like a rabbit, while we
were seeking towards the hills."

Obedient to the command, they all dispersed again--this time towards the
sea.

What Nunaga's thought was at the time we cannot tell, but there is
reason to believe it must have been equivalent to "Now or never," for
she leaped out of her place of concealment and made for the hills at the
top of her speed. Truth requires us to add that she was not much better
on her legs than were the men, for darkness, haste, and rugged ground
are a trying combination. But there is this to be said for the girl:
being small, she fell lightly; being rotund, she fell softly; being
india-rubbery, she rebounded; and, being young, she took it easily. In
a very short time she felt quite safe from pursuit.

Then she addressed herself diligently to find out the direction of the
Eskimo camp, being filled with desperate anxiety for her old friend
Kannoa. Strong, almost, as a young Greenland fawn, and gifted,
apparently, with some of that animal's power to find its way through the
woods, she was not long of hitting the right direction, and gaining the
coast, along which she ran at her utmost speed.

On arriving--breathless and thoroughly exhausted--she found to her
dismay that Angut, Simek, Rooney, and Okiok had left. The news of her
capture had already been brought in by the women with the oomiak, and
these men, with as many others as could be spared, had started off
instantly to the rescue.

"But they are not long gone," said Nunaga's mother, by way of comforting
her child.

"What matters that?" cried Nunaga in despair; "dear old Kannoa will be
lost, for they know nothing of her danger."

While the poor girl spoke, her brother Ermigit began to prepare himself
hastily for action.

"Fear not, sister," he said; "I will run to the great cliff, for I know
it well. They left me to help to guard the camp, but are there not
enough to guard it withou