ears were saluted by the well-known bark
of a pack of Esquimaux dogs. In another moment they dashed into the
midst of a snow village, and were immediately surrounded by the excited
natives. For some time no information could be gleaned from their
interpreter, who was too excited to make use of his meagre amount of
English. They observed, however, that the natives, although much
excited, did not seem to be so much surprised at the appearance of white
men amongst them as those were whom they had first met with near the
ship. In a short time Meetuck apparently had expended all he had to say
to his friends, and turned to make explanations to Bolton in a very
excited tone; but little more could be made out than that what he said
had some reference to white men. At length, in desperation, he pointed
to a large hut which seemed to be the principal one of the village, and,
dragging the mate towards it, made signs to him to enter.

Bolton hesitated an instant.

"He wants you to see the chief of the tribe, no doubt," said Fred;
"you'd better go in at once."

A loud voice shouted something in the Esquimaux language from within the
hut. At the sound Fred's heart beat violently, and pushing past the
mate he crept through the tunnelled entrance and stood within. There
was little furniture in this rude dwelling. A dull flame flickered in a
stone lamp which hung from the roof, and revealed the figure of a large
Esquimaux reclining on a couch of skins at the raised side of the hut.

The man looked up hastily as Fred entered, and uttered a few
unintelligible words.

"Father!" cried Fred, gasping for breath, and springing forward.

Captain Ellice, for it was indeed he, started with apparent difficulty
and pain into a sitting posture, and, throwing back his hood, revealed a
face whose open, hearty, benignant expression shone through a coat of
dark brown which long months of toil and exposure had imprinted on it.
It was thin, however, and careworn, and wore an expression that seemed
to be the result of long-continued suffering.

"Father!" he exclaimed in an earnest tone; "who calls me father?"

"Don't you know me, Father?--don't you remember Fred?--look at--"

Fred checked himself, for the wild look of his father frightened him.

"Ah! these dreams," murmured the old man, "I wish they did not come
so--"

Placing his hand on his forehead he fell backwards in a state of
insensibility into the arms of his son.

CHAPTE