k the three men went. A hind leg of the bear was cut off, the
rest was lashed firmly on the sledge, and the dogs enjoyed a feed while
this was being done. Then the captain cracked his whip. "Good-bye,
lads", "Good-bye, captain," and away he and the dogs and sledge went,
and were soon lost to view among the hummocks of the frozen sea.

CHAPTER NINE.

A VISIT TO THE ESKIMOS--WONDERFUL DOINGS--A MYSTERY.

The proceedings of this sledge party were so interesting that I give
them in the words of Tom Gregory's journal:

"_Sunday_.--We have indeed cause to rejoice and to thank God for His
mercies this morning. Last night we shot a bear, and the captain is
away with the carcass of it to our poor scurvy-smitten friends in the
_Hope_. This Sunday will be a real day of rest for me and Sam Baker,
though our resting-place is a very queer one. After the captain left
us, we looked about for a convenient place to encamp, and only a few
yards from the spot where we killed the bear we found the ruins of an
old Eskimo hut made partly of stones, partly of ice. We set to work to
patch it up with snow, and made it perfectly air-tight in about two
hours.

"Into this we carried our bear-skins and things, spread them on the
snowy floor, put a lump of bear's fat into our tin travelling lamp, and
prepared supper. We were not particular about the cookery. We cut a
couple of huge slices off our bear's ham, half roasted them over the
lamp, and began. It was cut, roast, and come again, for the next hour
and a half. I positively never knew what hunger was until I came to
this savage country! And I certainly never before had any idea of how
much I could eat at one sitting!

"This hearty supper was washed down with a swig of melted snow-water.
We had some coffee with us, but were too tired to infuse it. Then we
blocked up the door with snow, rolled our bear-skins round us, and were
sound asleep in five minutes.

"Lucky for us that we were so careful to stop up every hole with snow,
for, during the night the wind rose and it became so intensely cold that
Baker and I could scarcely keep each other warm enough to sleep, tired
though we were. At this moment my fingers are so stiff that they will
hardly hold the pencil with which I write, and the gale is blowing so
furiously outside that we dare not open the door. This door, by the
way, is only a hole big enough to creep through. The captain cannot
travel to-day. He knows we are