at had happened, and bring off the others with the
surgeon and stimulants. Fredericks and Bierderbick presently got up and
came out. Colwell gave them, as well as Greely and Elison, a little of
the biscuit he had in his pocket, which they munched slowly and
deliberately. Then he gave them another bit, while Norman opened one of
the cans of pemmican. Scraping off a little with a knife, Colwell fed
them slowly by turns. It was a pitiable sight. They could not stand up,
and had dropped down on their knees, and held out their hands begging
for more. After they had each been fed twice, they were told that they
had had enough, that they could not eat more then without danger; but
their hunger had now come back with full force, and they begged
piteously to be helped again, protesting that it could do them no harm.
Colwell was wisely deaf to their entreaties and threw away the can.
When Greely found that he was refused he took out a can of the boiled
seal-skin, which had been carefully husbanded, and which he said he had
a right to eat, as it was his own. This was taken away from him, but
while Colwell was at work trying to raise the tent, some one got the
half-emptied can of pemmican, and by the time it was discovered had
eaten its contents.

The weaker ones were like children, petulant, rambling and fitful in
their talk, absent, and sometimes a little incoherent. While they were
waiting for the return of the boat, Colwell and the ice-masters did
their best to cheer them up by telling them that relief was at hand, and
that the others would soon arrive. They could not realize it, and
refused to believe it. So they were humored, and by way of taking up
their thoughts, Colwell told them something of what had been going on in
the world during their three years of exile. Curiously enough, there was
much that they knew already. It turned out that among the stores from
the "Proteus" were two boxes of lemons, and the fruit had been wrapped
up in scraps of English newspapers,--"those lemons which your dear wife
put up for us," as one of them said to Colwell in a moment of wandering
fancy. The latter could only disclaim the imaginary obligation to an
imaginary person, but the impression had already faded.

As Greely complained of cold, Colwell gave him his gloves, and persuaded
him to go back to his sleeping-bag. This was lying under the fallen
tent-cloth, which the party had been too weak or too discouraged to
raise up and disengage.