snow residence which
belonged to Mangivik. Mrs Mangivik was sitting opposite to her mending
a seal-skin boot, and Cowlik the easy-going was seated beside her,
engaged with some other portion of native attire. Nootka was busy over
the cooking-lamp, and old Mangivik himself was twirling his thumbs,
awaiting the result of her labours. Oolalik was there too--he was
frequently there--courting Nootka in the usual way, by prolonged silent
staring. The process might have been trying to some women, but Nootka
did not mind. Like many young damsels, she was fond of admiration, and
could stand a good deal of it, no matter how peculiar the mode in which
it was expressed.

"I don't care to go," said Adolay, with a sigh.

Cheenbuk did not repeat the invitation or press for a reason. He was a
considerate as well as a gallant youth. He knew that the poor girl was
pining for her parents, and that she regretted having left them--even
although remaining in her native village might have involved her being
wed against her will to the hated Magadar, or subjected to his
persecutions during her father's absence. Cheenbuk did his best to
comfort her with the assurance that he would take her back to her home
with the very first of the open water. But when Adolay began to realise
what a very long time must elapse before the ice would reopen its
portals and set the waters free, her heart sank and she began to mope.

"We may as well have some women with us," remarked Oolalik, with a
pointed glance at Nootka, but Nootka took no notice of either the
observation or the glance. Even Eskimo girls understand how to tease!

"Will Cowlik go?" asked Cheenbuk.

"Yes." Cowlik smiled, and was quite ready to go.

"No, she won't," said Mrs Mangivik, with a positiveness almost European
in its tone.

"Very well." Cowlik smiled, and was equally ready to remain.

Mangivik himself expressed no opinion on the subject, but twirled his
thumbs faster as he expressed a hope that the cooking would be soon
completed.

It was finally arranged that only young men should go, with sledges and
teams of dogs to fetch the meat home.

The little town in which this scene was being enacted was composed of
between twenty and thirty whitey-brown bee-hives of snow, of the usual
shape, ranged on the ice near the shore of a large island. The scene
presented was a lively one, for while some of the inhabitants were
creeping into the small tunnels which formed as it