olled him in a large
white bearskin, and tied him on. While thus engaged Anteek observed
that Cheenbuk gazed for a few moments intently into the Indian's face,
and then became much and strangely excited.

"Is he going to die?" asked the boy anxiously.

"No, it is not that--but--but, I have seen this Fire-spouter before. I
know him! Quick, we _must_ save his life!"

If the life of Nazinred had depended on the speed of the Eskimo dogs
there would have been much hope of it, for Cheenbuk made them fly like
the wind until he regained the three igloes. As for Attim, having, with
prompt sagacity, perceived that the strangers were friendly, he resigned
himself to his fate. Indeed, his master had, in a dazed sort of way,
adopted the same course, and willingly submitted to whatever was done to
him.

Arrived at the deserted huts, the Indian was allowed to lie in his white
bearskin until the Eskimo had kindled a lamp, cooked some food, warmed
some water, and prepared a comfortable couch. Then he went out to
unlash the sleeper.

"Now, Anteek, I'm going to send you away, and will expect you to be
quick and act like a man. Drive the sledge back to where we killed the
walrus. Let the men pack the meat on it and away back to our igloes.
It is not far. You will soon get there if you make the dogs yelp. When
you have arrived, and told your story, get a fresh team of dogs, and two
men, and come back here with a little meat and some more bearskins--and
do it all, boy, as fast as you can."

"I will," answered Anteek in a tone and with a look of decision that
were quite satisfactory.

It was difficult to rouse the Indian at first so as to get him to
stagger into the snow-hut, and he was more than half asleep all the
time, insomuch that when inside he fell down on the couch prepared for
him, and again sank into profound slumber.

Then Anteek started up, jumped on the sledge, and set off for home at
full speed.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

STRANGE CONVERSE AND DISCOVERIES.

Returning to the hut, Cheenbuk continued his culinary preparations with
great diligence, gazing often and earnestly, as he did so, at the thin
and careworn countenance of the sleeper.

Although Nazinred was considerably altered by fatigue and suffering, the
Eskimo entertained not the smallest doubt that he was the same Indian
with whom he had once struggled on the banks of the Whale, or Greygoose,
River. Equally sure was he that the Indian, owing to his w