"No, lad, no, I have no such steam-engine or any other miraculous contrivance that sets the laws of nature at defiance, and appears only in nursery tales. This expedition has been undertaken on no haphazard or insane plan. It was all cut and dry before we left Old England, and it is much simpler than you suppose."

"What, then, is to be your motive power, if not oars or sails—which last would not work well, I fear, in an india-rubber boat?" asked Leo.

"Kites," replied the Captain.

"Kites!" repeated both Alf and Leo in surprise.

"Not paper ones, surely," said Benjy, in a tone of disappointment, not unmingled with contempt.

"No, Ben, not paper ones," said the Captain, "but you shall see. Let the boxes be unlashed and carried into yonder cave. I'll unpack them presently. Meanwhile, Anders, I want you to interpret for me. Go, tell Chingatok I wish to have a talk with him."

While the brothers went to obey their leader's order, and Benjy to superintend the pitching of the camp, Captain Vane walked along the shore with Anders and the giant.

"Are you sure, Chingatok, that there is no more ice in this sea?" asked the Captain.

"No more great packs; only a little here and there, and a few ice-mountains," answered the Eskimo.

"And no more islands?"

"No more islands till you come to the land where I and my people dwell. There are more islands beyond that with people on them—people who are not friendly to us."

"How far off, now, is your land from this island?" continued the Captain, with a grave nod to Leo, who joined them at the moment.

"About three days with a kayak."

The Captain pondered for a few minutes.

"Leo," he said, "the observation which I took yesterday enables me to place this island in latitude 86 degrees 40 minutes. I judge that a kayak may travel at the rate of three miles an hour, which, making allowance for sleep and rests, gives the distance of this island from Chingatok's native land approximately at about 100 miles, so that the home of this giant and his tribe is actually in the near neighbourhood of the Pole itself. If this be so, we may consider that our success, wind, weather, etcetera, permitting, is absolutely certain."

The Captain spoke in the deep earnest tones of one under the influence of powerful but suppressed enthusiasm.

"Now then, Leo," he continued, "we will go and take formal possession of this new discovery. What shall we call it? Good Hope is too familiar as a cape."

"Why not Great Hope?" asked Leo.

"Good! That will do well."

So Captain Vane took possession of Great Hope Island; having fixed its position in latitude 86 degrees 40 minutes north, and longitude 60 degrees west.

After that he proceeded to open the cases which had so long been objects of interest to his own party, and objects of intense curiosity to the Eskimos, who crowded round the entrance of the shallow cavern with eager looks, while their leader went to work with hammer and chisel on the copper fastenings.

"Wugh! Huk! hi! hosh! ho!" were something like the exclamations uttered by the Eskimos when the lid of the first case flew up and revealed only a mass of brown paper wrappings.

It was interesting to observe the utter self-oblivion of these children of nature! Of course the eyes and mouths of all opened wider and wider while the work went on. We can understand this, for it is characteristic of the simple in all nations, but it was not so easy to understand why shoulders should slowly rise and elbows be slightly bent, and the ten fingers gradually expand like claws. Anxiety might account for the way in which some of them softly lifted one foot and then the other; but why did little Oblooria raise her left foot by imperceptible degrees, and remain poised upon the other as if she were a bird, except on the supposition that she was unconsciously imitating Tekkona, who was doing the same thing?

It was interesting, also, to note the slight substratum of consciousness that displayed itself in Oolichuk, who, while regarding the Captain in glaring expectancy, put his arm, inadvertently as it were, round Oblooria's waist—also the complete absence of consciousness in the latter, who was so engrossed with the Captain, that she did not appear to feel the touch of Oolichuk! These little peculiarities, however, although extremely interesting, were not observed by any of the actors on that occasion—except, perhaps, by Benjy, who, being sharp-witted, had a knack of seeing round a corner at times!

When the contents of the case were turned out, they proved to consist of several coils of rope, and a large square bundle. The uncording of the latter intensified the expectation of the Eskimo to boiling point, and when the brown paper was removed, and a roll of something with a strange, not to say bad, smell was displayed, they boiled over in a series of exclamations to which the former "huks" and "hos" were mere child's play. But when the roll was unrolled, and assumed a flat shape not unlike the skin of a huge walrus, they gave a shout. Then, when the Captain, opening a smaller package, displayed a pair of bellows like a concertina, they gave a gasp. When he applied these to a hole in the flat object, and caused it slowly to swell, they uttered a roar, and when, finally, they saw the flat thing transformed into a goodly-sized boat, they absolutely squealed with delight, and began to caper about in childlike joy.

In this manner, three cases were opened, and three boats produced. Then the Magician, who went about his work in perfect silence, with a knowing smile on his lips, opened several longish boxes, which Leo had guessed to be filled with fishing-rods or spare rifles, but which, it turned out, contained oars for the india-rubber boats. After that, the Captain opened another large case, which roused the surprise of his white followers as much as that of the natives.

"It looks like one of mother's silk dresses," remarked Benjy, as the new wonder was dragged forth.

"Too voluminous for that," said Alf.

"A balloon!" exclaimed Leo.

"No, boys, it's only a kite," said the Captain, unfolding it. "I confess it does not look very like one, but its appearance will change by and by."

And its appearance did change remarkably as it was opened out and put together.

The construction of this kite was peculiar. In the first place, it was square in form, or, rather, diamond-shaped, and its size, when fully distended, was eighteen feet by fourteen.

"The simplicity of it, you see," said the Captain, as he put it together, "is its great recommendation."

He ceased to speak for a few moments, while engaged with a troublesome joint, and Benjy took advantage of the pause to express a hope that simplicity was not its greatest recommendation, because he had never heard of any one attempting to reach the Pole on the strength of simplicity.

Without noticing this remark, the Captain went on—

"You see it would be troublesome to carry distending sticks of great length, because they would be in the way, and apt to get broken. Each stick, therefore, has a joint in the middle like that of a fishing-rod. There are four such sticks, fastened to, or radiating from, a strong steel central hinge, so that they can be folded together, or opened out into the form of a cross. A small but very strong cross of bamboo fits on the machine, behind the central hinge, and locks it in a distended position, after the silk has been placed on it. Strong cords run round the outer edges of the silk, and there are loops at the corners to attach it to the distenders. Thus, you see, the kite can be put up, or folded into a portable form like an umbrella, though not of course as quickly, nor yet as easily, owing to its great size."

While he was speaking, the Captain was busily putting the several parts of the kite together.

As he concluded, he laid the machine on its face, locked it with the little bamboo cross, and then held it up in triumph, to the delight of his white observers, and the blank astonishment of the Eskimos. We say blank, because, unlike the boat, the nature of which they understood before it had been quite inflated, this machine was to them an absolute mystery, and seemed to be of no use at all.

Their opinion of it was not improved when a sudden puff of wind blew it flat on the ground, causing the Captain to fall on the top of it.

"It's a little awkward in handling," he growled, unlocking the centre-cross. "Hold the points down, lads, till I drag it into the umbrella form. There; it's all safe now. The truth is, unmanageableness when in hand is the only fault of my kite. Once in the air, it's as tractable as a lamb; getting it up is the chief difficulty, but that is not too great to be overcome."

"Besides, you know, nothing's perfect in this world, father," said Benjy, with a wink at Butterface, who, having acute risible tendencies, exploded. Some of the Eskimos, whose sympathies were strong, joined in the laugh by way of relief to their feelings.

When the Captain had wound a strap round the closed kite, to restrain its volatile nature, he opened another large case which contained several reels of strong cord, somewhat resembling log-lines, but with this peculiarity, that, alongside of each thick cord there ran a thin red line of twine, connected with though not bound to the other by means of little loops or rings of twine fixed about six feet apart throughout its entire length.

"These are the cords to fly the kites," said the Captain, taking up one of the reels, which was as large as a man's hat. "You see I have three sets of silk in that box, and six sets of reels and sticks, besides a few spare pieces of the latter, so that we can afford to suffer a little damage. Now, the use of this peculiar sort of double line will be clear when in action, but I may as well explain it. The end of this stout line is to be made fast to the band which you saw on the kite, and the end of this thin red line to the top of its upright stick. You remember well enough how independent ordinary kites are. You cannot cause them to descend except by hauling them in by main force, and you cannot moderate their pull. This kite of mine is capable of exerting a pull equal to six horses, with a sufficiently strong wind. So, you see, it would be impossible for a dozen men to hold it without some check on its power. This check is supplied by the thin red line, which is made of the strongest silk. By pulling it gently you bend the head of the kite forward, so that it ceases to present a flat surface to the wind, which flies off it more or less at the tail. By pulling still more on the red line, the traction-power is still further reduced, and, with a good pull, the kite can be made to present its head altogether to the wind, and thus to lie flat on it, when, of course, it will descend slowly to the ground, waving from side to side, like a dropped sheet of paper."

"Are you going to try it, father?" asked Benjy eagerly.

The Captain looked up at the clouds with a critical glance. "There's hardly enough of wind to-day, boy. Nevertheless we will try."

In a very short time the kite was again extended, the centre locked, the thick cord fixed to a loop in the band, and the thin cord to the head of the main stick. While this was being done, the corners were held down by Leo, Benjy, Anders, and Butterface.

"How about a tail, father?" asked Benjy, with sudden animation.

"Ha! I forgot the tail. I've got several tails. It's well you reminded me."

"It is indeed," responded the boy, "for I remember well that when my kites lost their tails they used to whirl wildly about until they dashed their heads on the ground. This kite would be little better than a mad elephant without its tail!"

A short tail, made of the strongest cat-gut, was now fixed to the lower extremity of the kite. It had a bag at the end, to be weighted with stones as required.

"Now, then, Alf, do you carry the reel away fifty yards or so, and pay out the line as you go. Make a dozen of the Eskimos hold on with you till I come and regulate the pull. I must remain here to set it off."

Alf did as he was ordered. When he was far enough out, the Captain and Leo raised the aerial monster with caution, grasping it by the shoulders, while Benjy held on to the tail. Their great care was to keep it flat, so that it presented nothing but its thin head to the wind, but this was a difficulty, for it kept fluttering as if anxious to get away, catching a slant of wind underneath now and then, which caused both Leo and the Captain to stagger.

"Don't hold down the tail, Benjy," cried the Captain, looking anxiously over his shoulder.

Unfortunately Ben did not hear the "don't." Not only did he hold on with increased vigour, but he gave the tail an energetic pull downwards. The result was that the wind got fairly underneath, and the head was jerked upward. Leo, fearing to tear the silk, let go, and the Captain was thrown violently off. Benjy alone stood to his guns—or to his tail—with loyal heroism for a moment, but when he felt himself lifted off the ground a few inches, a feeling of horror seized him. He let go, and came down with a whack.

Free at last, the huge kite shot upwards like a rocket, and a terrible howl from the Eskimo showed that all was not right at their end of the line. The truth was that none of them were impressed with the importance of the duty required of them. The sudden strain jerked the line out of the hands of some, and threw others to the ground, and Alf, who had for greater security taken a turn of the line round his right arm, was dragged forward at full racing speed. Indeed he was beginning to take those tremendous bounds called "giant strides," which were sure to terminate in his being dragged along the ground.

Captain Vane saw the danger, and was equal to the occasion. There was little time for thought or action. Another moment and Alf would be off the beach into the sea.

"Let go! Alf; let go!" cried Leo, in an agony of alarm.

"No, no! hold on!" shouted the Captain.

Poor Alf could not help holding on. The turns of the line round his arm held him fast.

Another moment, and he was abreast of the Captain who sprang at him as he passed like a leopard on his prey and held on. But the pace was little checked with this additional weight. It was beyond the Captain's running powers, and both he and Alf would have been thrown violently to the ground had it not happened that they had reached the water, into which they plunged with a tremendous splash. They were dragged through it, however, only for a few seconds, for by that time the Captain had succeeded in getting hold of the red line and pulling it separately. The result was immediate and satisfactory. The head of the kite was thrown forward, acting somewhat as a sail does when a ship is thrown into the wind, and the two unfortunates came to an anchor in four feet of water.

"We must not let it into the water, Alf," gasped the Captain, clearing the water from his eyes.

"How can we prevent it?" spluttered Alf, shaking the wet hair off his face.

"Ease your fingers a bit. There; hold on." As he spoke the Captain gave a slight pull on the regulating line. The kite at once caught the wind and soared, giving the two operators an awful tug, which nearly overturned them again.

"Too much," growled the Captain. "You see it takes some experience to regulate the excitable thing properly. There, now, haul away for the shore."

By this time they were joined by Leo and Chingatok, who ran into the water and aided them in dragging the refractory machine ashore.

"That's a vigorous beginning, father," remarked Benjy as they came to land.

"It is, my boy. Go and fetch me dry clothes while we haul in the kite and make her snug."

"When do you mean to start?" asked Leo, as he coiled away the slack of the line on the reel.

"The first steady fair wind that blows from the south," answered the Captain, "but we must have one or two experimental trials of the kites and boats together, before we set out on the real voyage."

"It's a capital idea," returned Leo enthusiastically. "There's a sort of neck-or-nothing dash about it that quite suits me. But, uncle, what of the Eskimos? The three boats won't carry the half of them."

"I know that, lad, and shall get over the difficulty by leaving some of them behind. Chingatok says they are quite able to take care of themselves; can easily regain the Greenland shore, find their canoes, or make new ones, and return to their own land if they choose."

"But, uncle," said Alf, who was by no means as reckless as his brother, "don't you think it's rather risky to go off into an unknown sea in open boats, for no one knows how long, to go no one knows exactly where?"

"Why, Alf," returned the Captain with a laugh, "if you were as stupid about your scientific pursuits as you are about geographical affairs, you would not be worth your salt. A sea's a sea, isn't it, whether known or unknown, and the laws that affect all seas are pretty much alike. Of course it is risky. So is going on a forlorn hope. So is shooting with a set of fellows who don't know how to manage their guns. So is getting on a horse, for it may kick you off or run away. So is eating fish, for you may choke yourself. Everything, almost, is more or less risky. You must risk something if you'd discover the North Pole, which has baffled adventurers from the days of Adam till now. And you are wrong in saying that we shall go off for no one knows how long. The distance from this island to the Pole is pretty nearly 200 miles. If our kites carry us along at the rate of ten miles an hour, we shall cover the distance in 20 hours. If we have calms or contrary winds we may take 20 days. If storms come, we have not much to fear, for the weather is warm,—so, too,—is the water. Then, our boats are lifeboats—they cannot sink. As to not knowing where exactly we are going, why, man, we're going to the North Pole. Everybody knows where that is, and we are going to the home of Chingatok, which cannot be very far from it."

"There, Alf, I hope you are sufficiently answered," said Leo, as he undid the locking-gear of the kite, which by that time lay prone on its face, as peaceful as a lamb.

The next three days were spent in flying the other kites, tying them on the boats, acquiring experience, and making preparations for the voyage. It was found that, with a moderate breeze, the kites towed the boats at the rate of ten miles an hour, which was beyond the most sanguine hopes of the Captain. Of course they could not beat to windward with them, but they could sail with a considerable slant, and they prevented the boats, while thus advancing, from making much leeway by means of deep leeboards, such as are used even at the present day by Dutch ships.

"But I can't understand," said Benjy, after several trials had been made, "why you should not have fitted sails to the boats, instead of kites."

"Because a sail only a quarter the size of a kite would upset the boat," said the Captain, "and one small enough to suit it would be little better than a pair of oars. This kite system is like fitting a gigantic sail to a lilliputian boat, d'ye see?"

"I see, father. But I wish it had been a balloon. It would have been greater fun to have gone to the Pole in a balloon!"

"A balloon will never go there, nor anywhere else, Benjy, except where the wind carries it, for a balloon cannot be steered. It's impossible in the nature of things—as much so as that dream of the visionary, perpetual motion."

On the fourth day after their arrival at Great Hope Island the wind blew strong and steady from the south, and the explorers prepared to start. The Eskimos had been told that they were to remain behind and shift for themselves—a piece of news which did not seem to affect them at all, one way or other. Those who were selected to go with the explorers were perfectly willing to do so. Chingatok, of course, was particularly ready. So were his corpulent mother and Tekkona and Oblooria; so also were Oolichuk, Ivitchuk, and Akeetolik.

It was a splendid sunny afternoon when the kites were finally flown and attached to the three boats which were commanded respectively by the Captain Leo, and Alf. These three sat at the bow of each boat manipulating the regulators, and keeping the kites fluttering, while the goods and provisions were put on board. Then the Eskimo women and crews stepped in, and the stern ropes were cast loose.

"Let go the check-strings!" shouted the Captain.

This was done. The huge kites began to strain at once, and the india-rubber boats went rushing out to sea, leaving the remainder of the Eskimo band speechless on the shore. They stood there motionless, with open mouths and eyes, the very embodiment of unbelieving wonder, till the boats had disappeared on the horizon.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE OPEN POLAR BASIN AT LAST! ALF WASHES HIMSELF IN IT.

Who can imagine or describe the feelings of Captain Vane and his young relatives on finding themselves sweeping at such a magnificent rate over the great Polar basin?—that mysterious sea, which some believe to be a sea of thick-ribbed ice, and others suppose to be no sea at all, but dry land covered with eternal snows. One theorist even goes the length of saying that the region immediately around the Pole is absolutely nothing at all!—only empty space caused by the whirling of the earth,—a space which extends through its centre from pole to pole!

Much amusement did the Captain derive from the contemplation of these theories as he crossed over the grand and boundless ocean, and chatted pleasantly with his son, or Chingatok, or Toolooha, who formed the crew of his little boat.

The party consisted of thirteen, all told. These were distributed as follows:—

In the Captain's boat were the three just mentioned.

In Leo's boat were Butterface, Oolichuk, and Oblooria. How it came to pass that Oolichuk and Oblooria were put into the same boat no one seemed to know, or indeed to care, except Oolichuk himself, who, to judge from the expression of his fat face, was much pleased. As for Oblooria, her mild visage always betokened contentment or resignation— save when overshadowed by timidity.

In Alf's boat were Anders, Ivitchuk, Akeetolik, and Tekkona. The interpreter had been given to Alf because he was not quite so muscular or energetic as the Captain or his brother, while Anders was eminently strong and practical. The Eskimo women counted as men, being as expert with oar and paddle as they, and very nearly as strong as most ordinary men.

What added to the romance of the first day's experience was the fact that, a few hours after they started, a dead calm settled down over the sea, which soon became like a great sheet of undulating glass, in which the rich, white clouds, the clear sky, and the boats with their crews, were reflected as in a moving, oily mirror; yet, strange to say, the kites kept steady, and the pace of ten or twelve miles an hour did not abate for a considerable time. This, of course, was owing to the fact that there was a continuous current blowing northward in the higher regions of the atmosphere. The sun, meantime, glowed overhead with four mock-suns around him, nevertheless the heat was not oppressive, partly because the voyagers were sitting at rest, and partly because a slight current of cool air, the creation of their own progress, fanned their cheeks. Still further to add to the charm, flocks of sea-birds circling in the air or dipping in the water, a berg or two floating in the distance, a porpoise showing its back fin now and then, a seal or a walrus coming up to stare in surprise and going down to meditate, perhaps in wonder, with an occasional puff from a lazy whale,—all this tended to prevent monotony, and gave life to the lovely scene.

"Is it not the most glorious and altogether astonishing state of things you ever heard or dreamed of, father?" asked Benjy, breaking a prolonged silence.

"Out o' sight, my boy, out o' sight," replied the Captain. "Never heard nor saw nor dreamed of anything like it before."

"P'raps it is a dream!" said Benjy, with a slightly distressed look. "How are we ever to know that we're not dreaming?"

The boy finished his question with a sharp cry and leaped up.

"Steady, boy, steady! Have a care, or you'll upset the boat," said the Captain.

"What did you do that for, father?"

"What, my boy?"

"Pinch me so hard! Surely you didn't do it on purpose?"

"Indeed I did, Ben," replied the Captain with a laugh. "You asked how you were to know you were not dreaming. If you had been dreaming that would have wakened you—wouldn't it?"

"I dare say it would, father," returned the boy, resuming his seat, "but I'm convinced now. Don't do it again, please. I wish I knew what Chingatok thinks of it. Try to ask him, father. I'm sure you've had considerable experience in his lingo by this time."

Benjy referred here, not only to the numerous conversations which his father had of late carried on with the giant through the interpreter, but to the fact that, having been a whaler in years past, Captain Vane had previously picked up a smattering of various Eskimo dialects. Up to that day he had conversed entirely through the medium of Anders, but as that useful man was now in Alf's boat, the Captain was left to his own resources, and got on much better than he had expected.

Chingatok turned his eyes from the horizon on which they had been fixed, and looked dreamily at the Captain when asked what he was thinking about.

"I have been thinking," said he, "of home, my home over there." He lifted his huge right arm and pointed to the north. "And I have been thinking," he continued, "that there must be another home up there." He raised his hand and pointed to the sky.

"Why do you think so?" asked the Captain in some surprise.

"Because it is so beautiful, so wonderful, so full of light and peace," replied the Eskimo. "Sometimes the clouds, and the wind, and the rain, come and cover it; but they pass away, and there it is, just the same, always calm, and bright, and beautiful. Could such a place have been made for nothing? Is there no one up there? not even the Maker of it? and if there is, does he stay there alone? Men and women die, but surely there is something in us that does not die. If there is no spirit in us that lives, of what use was it to make us at all? I think we shall have a home up there."

Chingatok had again turned his eyes to the horizon, and spoke the concluding words as if he were thinking aloud. The Captain looked at him earnestly for some time in silence.

"You are right, Chingatok," he said at length, or at least attempted to say as best he could—"you are right. My religion teaches me that we have spirits; that God—your God and mine—dwells up there in what we call heaven, and that His people shall dwell with him after death."

"His people!" repeated the Eskimo with a perplexed look. "Are some men his people and some not?"

"Undoubtedly," replied the Captain, "men who obey a chief's commands are his men—his friends. Those who refuse to obey, and do every kind of wickedness, are not his friends, but his enemies. God has given us free-wills, and we may reject him—we may choose to be his enemies."

It must not be supposed that Captain Vane expressed himself thus clearly, but the above is the substance of what he attempted by many a strange and complicated sentence to convey. That he had made his meaning to some extent plain, was proved by Chingatok's reply.

"But I do not know God's commands; how then can I obey them?"

"You may not know them by book," replied the Captain promptly; "for you have no books, but there is such a thing as the commands or law of God written in the heart, and it strikes me, Chingatok, that you both know and obey more of your Maker's laws than many men who have His word."

To this the Eskimo made no answer, for he did not rightly understand it, and as the Captain found extreme difficulty in expressing his meaning on such questions, he was quite willing to drop the conversation. Nevertheless his respect for Chingatok was immensely increased from that day forward.

He tried to explain what had been said to Benjy, and as that youth's mind was of an inquiring turn he listened with great interest, but at last was forced to confess that it was too deep for him. Thereafter he fell into a mood of unusual silence, and pondered the matter for a long time.

Awaking from his reverie at last, he said, abruptly, "How's her head, father?"

"Due north, Benjy."

He pulled out a pocket-compass about the size of an ordinary watch, which instrument it was his habit to guard with the most anxious care.

"North!" repeated the boy, glancing at the instrument with a look of surprise, "why, we're steering almost due east!"

"Ah! Ben, that comes of your judging from appearances without knowledge, not an uncommon state of mind in man and boy, to say nothing of woman. Don't you know what variation of the compass is?"

"No, father."

"What! have you been so long at sea with me and never heard yet about the magnetic pole?"

"Never a word, father. It seems to me that poles are multiplying as we get further north."

"Oh, Benjy, for shame—fie! fie!"

"Maybe if you had told me about it I might have had less to be shamed of, and you too, father."

"That's true, Benjy. That's true. You're a sharp boy for your age. But don't be disrespectful to your father, Ben; no good can ever come o' that. Whatever you are, be respectful to your old father. Come, I'll tell you about it now."

It will have been observed by this time that little Benjamin Vane was somewhat free in his converse with his father, but it must not therefore be supposed that he was really insolent. All his freedom of speech was vented in good humour, and the Captain knew that. There was, indeed, a powerful bond not only of affection but of sympathy between the little delicate boy and the big strong man. They thoroughly understood each other, and between those who understand each other there may be much freedom without offence, as everybody knows.

"You must understand," began the Captain, "that although the needle of the mariner's compass is said to point to the north with its head and to the south with its tail, it does not do so exactly, because the magnetic poles do not coincide exactly with the geographical poles. There are two magnetic poles just as there are two geographical poles, one in the southern hemisphere, the other in the northern. D'ye understand!"

"Clear as daylight, father."

"Well, Benjy, the famous Arctic discoverer, Sir James Ross, in 1832, discovered that the northern magnetic pole was situated in the island of Boothia Felix, in latitude 70 degrees 5 seconds and longitude 96 degrees 46 seconds West. It was discovered by means of an instrument called the dipping needle, which is just a magnetised needle made for dipping perpendicularly instead of going round horizontally like the mariner's compass. A graduated arc is fitted to it so that the amount of dip at any place on the earth's surface can be ascertained. At the magnetic equator there is no dip at all, because the needle being equally distant from the north and south magnetic poles, remains horizontal. As you travel north the needle dips more and more until it reaches the region of the north magnetic pole when it is almost perpendicular—pointing straight down.

"Now, it is only on a very few places of the earth's surface that the horizontal needle points to the true north and south, and its deviation from the earth's pole in its determination to point to the magnetic pole is called the variation of the compass. This variation is greater or less of course at different places, and must be allowed for in estimating one's exact course. In our present explorations we have got so far beyond the beaten track of travel that greater allowance than usual has to be made. In fact we have got considerably to the north of the magnetic pole. At the same time we are a good way to the east'ard of it, so that when I see the compass with its letter N pointing to what I know to be the magnetic north, I take our geographical position into account and steer almost due east by compass, for the purpose of advancing due north. D'ye see?"

"I'm not so sure that I do, father. It seems to me something like the Irishman's pig which you pull one way when you want him to go another. However, I'll take your word for it."

"That's right, my boy; when a man can't understand, he must act on faith, if he can, for there's no forcing our beliefs, you know. Anyhow he must be content to follow till he does understand; always supposing that he can trust his leader."

"I'm out of my depths altogether now, father. P'r'aps we'd better change the subject. What d'ye say to try a race with Leo? His boat seems to be overhauling us."

"No, no, Ben; no racing. Let us advance into the great unknown north with suitable solemnity."

"We appear to sail rather better than you do, uncle," shouted Leo, as his boat drew near.

"That's because you're not so heavily-laden," replied the Captain, looking back; "you haven't got giants aboard, you see; moreover there's one o' you rather light-headed."

"Hallo! uncle; evil communications, eh? You'd better change Benjy for Oblooria. She's quite quiet, and never jokes. I say, may I go ahead of you?"

"No, lad, you mayn't. Take a reef in your regulator, and drop into your proper place."

Obedient to orders, Leo pulled the regulator or check-string until the kite's position was altered so as to present less resistance to the wind, and dropped astern of the Faith, which was the name given by Benjy to his father's boat, the other two being named respectively the Hope and the Charity.

The prosperous advance did not, however, last very long. Towards evening the three kites suddenly, and without any previous warning, began to dive, soar, flutter, and tumble about in a manner that would have been highly diverting if it had not been dangerous. This no doubt was the effect of various counter-currents of air into which they had flown. The order was at once given to haul on the regulators and coil up the towing lines. It was promptly obeyed, but before a few fathoms had been coiled in, the kites again became as steady as before, with this change, however, that they travelled in a north-westerly direction.

The value of the leeboards now became apparent.

These were hinged down the middle so as to fold and become small enough to stow in the bottom of each boat when not in use. When unfolded and hung over the side, they presented a surface of resistance to the water much greater than that of an ordinary boat's keel, so that very little leeway indeed was made. By means of the steering-oar Captain Vane kept his boat advancing straight northward, while the kite was puffing in a north-westerly direction. The kite was thus compelled by the boat also to travel due north, though of course it did so in a sidelong manner.

Thus far the advance continued prosperously, the pace being but little checked and the course unaltered, but when, an hour or two later, the wind again shifted so as to carry the kites further to the west, the pace became much slower, and the leeway, or drift to leeward, considerable. Ultimately the wind blew straight to the west, and the boats ceased to advance. "This won't do, uncle," said Leo, who was close astern of the Faith, "I'm drifting bodily to leeward, and making no headway at all."

"Down with the tops,—I mean, the kites," shouted the Captain. "Pass the word to Alf."

Accordingly, the kites were reeled in, the regulators being so pulled and eased off that they were kept just fluttering without tugging during the operation. When, however, they passed out of the wind-stratum into the region of calm which still prevailed immediately above the sea, the kites descended in an alarming manner, swaying to and fro with occasional wild swoops, which rendered it necessary to haul in on the lines and reel up with the utmost speed.

Captain Vane was very successful in this rather difficult operation. While he hauled in the line Benjy reeled it up with exemplary speed, and the kite was finally made to descend on the boat like a cloud. When secured the locking-cross was removed, the distending-rods were folded inwards, the restraining, or what we may term the waist-band was applied, and the whole affair was changed into a gigantic Mrs Gamp umbrella. Being placed in the bow of the boat, projecting over the water, it formed a not ungraceful though peculiar bowsprit, and was well out of the way.

Leo and Butterface were equally successful, but poor Alf was not so fortunate. The too eager pursuit of knowledge was the cause of Alf's failure as has often been the case with others! He took on himself, as chief of his boat, the difficult and responsible task of hauling in the line,—which involved also the occasional and judicious manipulation of the regulating cord, when a sudden puff of wind should tend to send the kite soaring upwards with six or eight horse-power into the sky. To Ivitchuk was assigned the easy task of gathering in the "slack" and holding on to Alf if a sudden jerk should threaten to pull him overboard. Anders reeled up.

Just as the kite was passing out of the windy region above into the calm region below Alf beheld floating near the boat a beautiful, and to him entirely new, species of marine creature of the jelly-fish kind. With a wild desire to possess it he leaned over the boat's edge to the uttermost and stretched out his left hand, while with his right he held on to the kite! Need we say that the kite assisted him?—assisted him overboard altogether, and sent him with a heavy plunge into the sea!

Ivitchuk dropped his line and stretched out both arms towards the spot where the "Kablunet" had gone down. Akeetolik roared. Anders howled, and dropped his reel. Left to itself, the kite, with characteristic indecision, made an awful swoop towards the North Pole with its right shoulder. Changing its mind, it then made a stupendous rush with its left to the south-east. Losing presence of mind it suddenly tossed up its tail, and, coming down head foremost, went with fatal facility into the deep sea.

When Alf rose and was dragged panting into the boat, his first glance was upwards,—but not in thankfulness for his preservation!

"Gone!" he groaned, rising to his feet.

But the kite was not gone. The word had barely left his lips when it rose half its length out of the water, and then fell, in melancholy inaptitude for further mischief, flat upon the sea.

"Anything damaged?" asked the Captain, as he and Leo rowed their boats towards the Charity.

"Nothing," replied Alf with a guilty look, "the stick and things seem to be all right, but it has got awfully wet."

"No matter," said the Captain, laughing at Alf's forlorn look, "the sun will soon dry it. So long as nothing is broken or torn, we'll get on very well. But now, boys, we must go to work with oars. There must be no flagging in this dash for the Pole. It's a neck-or-nothing business. Now, mark my orders. Although we've got four oars apiece, we must only work two at a time. I know that young bloods like you are prone to go straining yourselves at first, an' then bein' fit for nothing afterwards. We must keep it up steadily. Two in each boat will pull at a time for one hour, while the other two rest or sleep, and so on, shift about; till another breeze springs up. Don't fold it up tight, Alf. Leave it pretty slack till it is dry, and then put on its belt."

"Don't you think we might have supper before taking to the oars?" suggested Leo.

"I second that motion," cried Benjy.

"And I support it," said Alf.

"Very good, get out the prog; an' we'll lay ourselves alongside, three abreast, as Nelson did at the Battle o' the Nile," said the Captain.

Their food was simple but sufficient. Pemmican—a solid greasy nutricious compound—was the foundation. Hard biscuit, chocolate, and sugar formed the superstructure. In default of fire, these articles could be eaten cold, but while their supply of spirits of wine lasted, a patent Vesuvian of the most complete and almost miraculous nature could provide a hot meal in ten minutes. Of fresh water they had a two-weeks' supply in casks, but this was economised by means of excellent water procured from a pond in a passing berg—from which also a lump of clear ice had been hewn, wrapped in a blanket, and carried into the Captain's boat as a supply of fresh water in solid form.

Laying the oars across the boats to keep them together, they floated thus pleasantly on the glassy sea, bathed in midnight sunshine. And while they feasted in comfort inexpressible—to the surprise, no doubt, of surrounding gulls and puffins—Benjamin Vane once again gave utterance to the opinion that it was the most glorious and altogether astonishing state of things that he had ever heard or dreamed of since the world began!



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A GALE AND A NARROW ESCAPE.

This is a world of alternations. We need not turn aside to prove that. The calm with which the voyage of our discoverers began lasted about four days and nights, during which period they advanced sometimes slowly under oars, sometimes more or less rapidly under kites—if we may so express it—according to the state of the wind.

And, during all that time the discipline of two and two—at watch, or at sleep, if not at work—was rigidly kept up. For none knew better than Captain Vane the benefit of discipline, and the demoralising effect of its absence, especially in trying circumstances. It is but just to add that he had no difficulty in enforcing his laws. It is right also to state that the women were not required to conform, even although they were accustomed to hard labour and willing to work as much as required. In all three boats the bow was set apart as the women's quarters, and when Toolooha, Oblooria or Tekkona showed symptoms of a desire to go to sleep—(there was no retiring for the night in these latitudes)—a blanket stretched on two oars cut their quarters off from those of the men, and maintained the dignity of the sex.

But soon the serene aspect of nature changed. Grey clouds overspread the hitherto sunny sky. Gusts of wind came sweeping over the sea from time to time, and signs of coming storm became so evident that the Captain gave orders to make all snug and prepare for dirty weather.

"You see, lads," he said, when the three boats were abreast, and the kites had been furled, "we don't know what may happen to us now. Nobody in the world has had any experience of these latitudes. It may come on to blow twenty-ton Armstrongs instead of great guns, for all we know to the contrary. The lightning may be sheet and fork mixed instead of separate for any light we've got on the subject, and it may rain whales and walruses instead of cats and dogs; so it behoves us to be ready."

"That's true, father," said Benjy, "but it matters little to me, for I've made my will. Only I forgot to leave the top with the broken peg and the rusty penknife to Rumty Swillpipe; so if you survive me and get home on a whale's back—or otherwise—you'll know what to do."

"This is not a time for jesting, Ben," said Alf rather seriously.

"Did I say it was?" inquired Ben, with a surprised look.

Alf deigned no reply, and Butterface laughed, while he and the others set about executing the Captain's orders.

The arrangements made in these india-rubber boats for bad weather were very simple and complete. After the lading in each had been snugly arranged, so as to present as flat a surface on the top as possible, a waterproof sheet was drawn over all, and its edges made fast to the sides of the boat, by means of tags and loops which were easily fastened and detached. As each sheet overhung its boat, any water that might fall upon it was at once run off. This, of course, was merely put on to protect the cargo and any one who chose to take shelter under it. The boat being filled with air required no such sheet, because if filled to overflowing it would still have floated. All round this sheet ran a strong cord for the crew, who sat outside of it as on a raft, to lay hold of if the waves should threaten to wash them off. There were also various other ropes attached to it for the same purpose, and loops of rope served for rowlocks.

When all had been arranged, those whose duty it was to rest leaned comfortably against the lumps caused by inequalities of the cargo, while the others took to their oars.

"It's coming!" cried Benjy, about half-an-hour after all had been prepared.

And unquestionably it was coming. The boy's quick eyes had detected a line on the southern horizon, which became gradually broader and darker as it rose until it covered the heavens. At the same time the indigo ripple caused by a rushing mighty wind crept steadily over the sea. As it neared the boats the white crests of breaking waves were seen gleaming sharply in the midst of the dark blue.

"Clap the women under hatches," shouted the Captain, with more good sense than refinement.

Benjy, Butterface, and Anders at the word lifted a corner of their respective sheets. Obedient Toolooha, Oblooria, and Tekkona bent their meek heads and disappeared: The sheets were refastened, and the men, taking their places, held on to the cords or life-lines. It was an anxious moment. No one could guess how the boats would behave under the approaching trial.

"Oars out," cried the Captain, "we must run before it."

A hiss, which had been gradually increasing as the squall drew near, broke into a kind of roar, and wind and waves rushed upon them as the men bent their backs to the oars with all their might.

It was soon found that the boats had so little hold of the water that the wind and oars combined carried them forward so fast as to decrease considerably the danger of being whelmed by a falling wave. These waves increased every moment in size, and their crests were so broken and cut off by the gale that the three boats, instead of appearing as they had hitherto done the only solid objects in the scene, were almost lost to sight in the chaos of black waves and driving foam. Although they tried their best to keep close together they failed, and each soon became ignorant of the position of the others. The last that they saw of Alf's boat was in the hollow between two seas like a vanishing cormorant or a northern diver. Leo was visible some time longer. He was wielding the steering-oar in an attitude of vigorous caution, while his Eskimos were pulling as if for their lives. An enormous wave rose behind them, curled over their heads and appeared ready to overwhelm them, but the sturdy rowers sent the boat forward, and the broken crest passed under them. The next billow was still larger. Taken up though he was with his own boat the Captain found time to glance at them with horror.

"They're gone!" he cried, as the top of the billow fell, and nothing was seen save the heads of the four men like dark spots on the foam. The boat had in truth been overwhelmed and sunk, but, like a true lifeboat it rose to the surface like a cork the instant the weight of water was removed, and her crew, who had held on to the life-lines and oars, were still safe.

"Well done the little Hope!" cried the Captain, while Benjy gave vent to his feelings in a cheer, which was evidently heard by Leo, for he was seen to wave his hand in reply. Next moment another wave hid the Hope from view, and it was seen no more at that time.

"I feel easier now, Benjy, thank God, after that. Alf is a fair steersman, and our boats are evidently able to stand rough usage."

Benjy made no reply. He was rubbing the water out of his eyes, and anxiously looking through the thick air in the hope of seeing Leo's boat again. The poor boy was grave enough now. When the might and majesty of the Creator are manifested in the storm and the raging sea, the merely humorous fancies of man are apt to be held in check.

The Captain's boat went rushing thus wildly onwards, still, fortunately, in the right direction; and for some hours there was no decrease in the force of the gale. Then, instead of abating, as might have been expected, it suddenly increased to such an extent that speedy destruction appeared to be inevitable.

"No sort o' craft could live long in this," muttered the Captain, as if to himself rather than to his son, who sat with a firm expression on his somewhat pale countenance, looking wistfully towards the northern horizon. Perhaps he was wondering whether it was worth while to risk so much for such an end. Suddenly he shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed intently.

"Land!" he exclaimed in a low eager tone.

"Whereaway, boy? Ay, so there is something there. What say you, Chingatok? Is it land?"

The giant, who, during all this time, had calmly plied a pair of oars with strength equal almost to that of four men, looked over his shoulder without, however, relaxing his efforts.

"No," he said, turning round again, "it is an ice-hill."

"A berg!" exclaimed the Captain. "We will make for it. Tie your handkerchief, Benjy, to the end of an oar and hold it up. It will serve as a guide to our comrades."

In a wonderfully short space of time the berg which Benjy had seen as a mere speck on the horizon rose sharp, rugged, and white against the black sky. It was a very large one—so large that it had no visible motion, but seemed as firm as a rock, while the billows of the Arctic Ocean broke in thunder on its glassy shore.

"We'll get shelter behind it, Ben, my boy," said the Captain, "hold the oar well up, and don't let the rag clap round the blade. Shake it out so. God grant that they may see it."

"Amen," ejaculated Benjy to the prayer with heartfelt intensity.

There was danger as well as safety in the near vicinity to this berg, for many of its pinnacles seemed ready to fall, and there was always the possibility of a mass being broken off under water, which might destroy the equilibrium of the whole berg, and cause it to revolve with awfully destructive power.

However, there was one favourable point—the base was broad, and the ice-cliffs that bordered the sea were not high.

In a few more minutes the western end of the berg was passed. Its last cape was rounded, and the Faith was swept by the united efforts of Chingatok, Benjy, and Toolooha, (who would not remain under cover), into the comparatively still water on the lee, or northern side of the berg.

"Hurrah!" shouted Benjy in a tone that was too energetic and peculiar to have been called forth by the mere fact of his own escape from danger.

Captain Vane looked in the direction indicated by the boy's glistening eyes—glistening with the salt tears of joy as well as with salt sea spray—and there beheld the other two boats coming dancing in like wild things on the crests of the heaving waves. They had seen the signal of the handkerchief, understood and followed it, and, in a few minutes more, were under the lee of the ice-cliffs, thanking God and congratulating each other on their deliverance.

A sheltered cove was soon found, far enough removed from cliffs and pinnacles to insure moderate safety. Into this they ran, and there they spent the night, serenaded by the roaring gale, and lullabied by the crash of falling spires and the groans of rending ice.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

RECORDS A WONDERFUL APPARITION BUT A FURIOUS NIGHT.

When the storm had passed, a profound calm once more settled down on the face of nature, as if the elements had been utterly exhausted by the conflict. Once more the sea became like a sheet of undulating glass, in which clouds and sun and boats were reflected vividly, and once again our voyagers found themselves advancing towards the north, abreast of each other, and rowing sociably together at the rate of about four miles an hour.

When advancing under oars they went thus abreast so as to converse freely, but when proceeding under kites they kept in single file, so as to give scope for swerving, in the event of sudden change of wind, and to prevent the risk of the entanglement of lines.

"What is that?" exclaimed Benjy, pointing suddenly to an object ahead which appeared at regular intervals on the surface of the water.

"A whale, I think," said Leo.

"A whale usually spouts on coming up, doesn't it?" said Alf.

Chingatok uttered an unpronounceable Eskimo word which did not throw light on the subject.

"What is it, Anders?" shouted the Captain.

"What you say?" asked the interpreter from Alf's boat, which was on the other side of the Hope.

"If these squawkin' things would hold their noise, you'd hear better," growled the Captain before repeating the question.

His uncourteous remark had reference to a cloud of gulls which circled round and followed the boats with remonstrative cries and astonished looks.

"It's beast," shouted Anders, "not knows his name in Ingliss."

"Humph! a man with half an eye might see it is 'beast,'" retorted the Captain in an undertone.

As he spoke, the "beast" changed its course and bore down upon them. As it drew near the Englishmen became excited, for the size of the creature seemed beyond anything they had yet seen. Strange to say, the Eskimos looked at it with their wonted gaze of calm indifference.

"It's the great sea-serpent at last," said Benjy, with something like awe on his countenance.

"It does look uncommon like it," replied the Captain, with a perplexed expression on his rugged visage. "Get out the rifles, lad! It's as well to be ready. D'ye know what it is, Chingatok?"

Again the giant uttered the unpronounceable name, while Benjy got out the fire-arms with eager haste.

"Load 'em all, Ben, load 'em all, an' cram the Winchester to the muzzle," said the Captain. "There's no sayin' what we may have to encounter; though I have heard of a gigantic bit of seaweed bein' mistaken for the great sea-serpent before now."

"That may be, father," said Benjy, with increasing excitement, "but nobody ever saw a bit of seaweed swim with the activity of a gigantic eel like that. Why, I have counted its coils as they rise and sink, and I'm quite sure it's a hundred and fifty yards long if it's an inch."

Those in the other boats were following the Captain's example,—getting out and charging the fire-arms,—and truly there seemed some ground for their alarm, for the creature, which approached at a rapid rate, appeared most formidable. Yet, strange to say, the Eskimos paid little attention to it, and seemed more taken up with the excitement of the white men.

When the creature had approached to within a quarter of a mile, it diverged a little to the left, and passed the boats at the distance of a few hundred yards. Then Captain Vane burst into a sudden laugh, and shouted:—

"Grampuses!"

"What?" cried Leo.

"Grampuses!" repeated the Captain. "Why, it's only a shoal of grampuses following each other in single file, that we've mistaken for one creature!"

Never before was man or boy smitten with heavier disappointment than was poor Benjy Vane on that trying occasion.

"Why, what's wrong with you, Benjy?" asked his father, as he looked at his woeful countenance.

"To think," said the poor boy, slowly, "that I've come all the way to the North Pole for this! Why I've believed in the great sea-serpent since ever I could think, I've seen pictures of it twisting its coils round three-masted ships, and goin' over the ocean with a mane like a lion, and its head fifty feet out o' the water! Oh! it's too bad, I'd have given my ears to have seen the great sea-serpent."

"There wouldn't have been much of you left, Benjy, if you had given them."

"Well, well," continued the boy, not noticing his father's remark, "it's some comfort to know that I've all but seen the great sea-serpent."

It is some comfort to us, reader, to be able to record the fact that Benjy Vane was not doomed to total disappointment on that memorable day, for, on the same evening, the voyagers had an encounter with walruses which more than made up for the previous misfortune.

It happened thus:—

The three boats were proceeding abreast, slowly but steadily over the still calm sea, when their attention was attracted by a sudden and tremendous splash or upheaval of water, just off what the Captain styled his "port bow." At the same moment the head of a walrus appeared on the surface like a gigantic black bladder. It seemed to be as large as the head of a small elephant, and its ivory tusks were not less than two feet long. There was a square bluntness about the creature's head, and a savage look about its little bloodshot eyes, which gave to it a very hideous aspect. Its bristling moustache, each hair of which was six inches long, and as thick as a crow quill, dripped with brine, and it raised itself high out of the water, turning its head from side to side with a rapidity and litheness of action that one would not have expected in an animal so unwieldy. Evidently it was looking eagerly for something.

Catching sight of the three boats, it seemed to have found what it looked for, and made straight at them. Leo quietly got ready his Winchester repeater, a rifle which, as the reader probably knows, can discharge a dozen or more shots in rapid succession; the cartridges being contained in a case resembling a thick ram-rod under the barrel, from which they are thrust almost instantaneously into their places.

But before the creature gained the boats, a second great upheaval of water took place, and another walrus appeared. This was the real enemy of whom he had been in quest. Both were bulls of the largest and most ferocious description. No sooner did they behold each other, than, with a roar, something betwixt a bark and a bellow, they collided, and a furious fight began. The sea was churned into foam around them as they rolled, reared, spurned, and drove their tusks into each other's skulls and shoulders.

The boats lay quietly by, their occupants looking on with interest. The Eskimos were particularly excited, but no one spoke or acted. They all seemed fascinated by the fight.

Soon one and another and another walrus-head came up out of the sea, and then it was understood that a number of cow walruses had come to witness the combat! But the human audience paid little regard to these, so much were they engrossed by the chief actors.

It might have been thought, from the position of their tusks, which are simply an enlargement and prolongation of the canine teeth, that these combatants could only strike with them in a downward direction, but this was not so. On the contrary, they turned their thick necks with so much ease and rapidity that they could strike in all directions with equal force, and numerous were the wounds inflicted on either side, as the blood-red foam soon testified.

We have said that the human spectators of the scene remained inactive, but, at the first pause, the Captain said he thought they might as well put a stop to the fight, and advised Leo to give one of them a shot.

"We'll not be the worse for a fresh steak," he added to Benjy, as Leo was taking aim.

The effect of the shot was very unexpected. One of the bulls was hit, but evidently not in a deadly manner, for the motion of the boat had disturbed Leo's aim. Each combatant turned with a look of wild surprise at the interruptor, and, as not unfrequently happens in cases of interference with fights, both made a furious rush at him. At the same moment, all the cows seemed to be smitten with pugnacity, and joined in the attack. There was barely time to get ready, when the furious animals were upon them. Guns and rifles were pointed, axes and spears grasped, and oars gripped. Even the women seized each a spear, and stood on the defensive. A simultaneous volley checked the enemy for a moment, and sent one of the cows to the bottom; but with a furious bellow they charged again.

The great anxiety of the defenders was to prevent the monsters from getting close to the boats, so as to hook on to them with their tusks, which would probably have overturned them, or penetrated the inflated sides. In either case, destruction would have been inevitable, and it was only by the active use of oar, axe, and spear that this was prevented.

Twice did one of the bulls charge the Captain's boat, and on both occasions he was met by the tremendous might of Chingatok, who planted the end of an oar on his blunt nose, and thrust him off. On each occasion, also, he received a shot from the double barrel of Benjy, who fired the first time into his open mouth, and the second time into his eye, but an angry cough from the one, and a wink from the other showed that he did not mind it much. Meantime the Captain, with the Winchester repeater, was endeavouring—but vainly, owing to the motions of the giant, and the swaying of the boat—to get a shot at the beast, while Toolooha, with an axe, was coquetting with a somewhat timid cow near the stern.

At last an opportunity offered. Captain Vane poured half a dozen balls as quick as he could fire into the head of the bull, which immediately sank.

Not less vigorously did the occupants of the other boats receive the charge. Leo, being more active than the Captain, as well as more expert with his repeater, slew his male opponent in shorter time, and with less expenditure of ammunition. Butterface, too, gained much credit by the prompt manner in which he split the skull of one animal with an axe. Even Oblooria, the timid, rose to the occasion, and displayed unlooked-for heroism. With a barbed seal-spear she stood up and invited a baby walrus to come on—by looks, not by words. The baby accepted the invitation—perhaps, being a pugnacious baby, it was coming on at any rate—and Oblooria gave it a vigorous dab on the nose. It resented the insult by shaking its head fiercely, and endeavouring to back off, but the barb had sunk into the wound and held on. Oblooria also held on. Oolichuk, having just driven off a cow walrus, happened to observe the situation, and held on to Oblooria. The baby walrus was secured, and, almost as soon as the old bull was slain, had a line attached to it, and was made fast to the stern.

"Well done, little girl!" exclaimed Oolichuk in admiration, "you're almost as good as a man."

Among civilised people this might have been deemed a doubtful compliment, but it was not so in Eskimo-land. The little maid was evidently much pleased, and the title of the Timid One, which Oolichuk was wont to give her when in a specially endearing frame of mind, was changed for the Brave One from that day. In a few more minutes the last charge of the enemy was repulsed, and those of them that remained alive dived back to that native home into which the slain had already sunk.

Thus ended that notable fight with walruses.

After consummating the victory with three cheers and congratulating each other, the conquerors proceeded to examine into the extent of damage received. It was found that, beyond a few scratches, the Faith and the Hope had escaped scathless, but the Charity had suffered considerably. Besides a bad rip in the upper part of the gunwale, a small hole had been poked in her side below water, and her air-chamber was filling rapidly.

"Come here, quick, uncle," cried Alf, in consternation, when he discovered this.

To his surprise the Captain was not so much alarmed as he had expected.

"It won't sink you, Alf, so keep your mind easy," he said, while examining the injury. "You see I took care to have the boats made in compartments. It will only make you go lop-sided like a lame duck till I can repair the damage."

"Repair it, uncle! how can—"

"Never mind just now, hand out a blanket, quick; I'll explain after; we must undergird her and keep out as much water as we can."

This operation was soon accomplished. The blanket was passed under the boat and made fast. By pressing against the injured part it checked the inflow of water. Then the cargo was shifted, and part of it was transferred to the other boats, and soon they were advancing as pleasantly, though not as quickly as before, while the Captain explained that he had brought a solution of gutta-percha for the express purpose of repairing damages to the boats, but that it was impossible to use it until they could disembark either on land or on an iceberg.

"We'll come to another berg ere long, no doubt, shan't we, Chingatok?" he asked.

The Eskimo shook his head and said he thought not, but there was a small rocky islet not far from where they were, though it lay somewhat out of their course.

On hearing this the Captain changed his course immediately, and rowed in the direction pointed out.

"There's wind enough up there, Benjy," remarked his father, looking up to the sky, where the higher clouds were seen rapidly passing the lower strata to the northward, "but how to get the kites set up in a dead calm is more than I can tell."

"There is a way out of the difficulty, father," said Benjy, pointing behind them.

He referred to a slight breeze which was ruffling the sea into what are called cat's paws far astern.

"Right boy, right. Prepare to hoist your tops'ls, lads," shouted the Captain.

In a few minutes the kites were expanded and the tow-lines attached. When the light breeze came up they all soared, heavily, it is true, but majestically, into the sky. Soon reaching the upper regions, they caught the steady breeze there, and towed the boats along at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour.

In two hours they sighted the islet which Chingatok had mentioned, and, soon afterwards, had landed and taken possession of it, in the usual manner, under the name of Refuge Island.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

DISCOURSES OF DEEP THINGS.

The islet, or rock, for it was little more, which the explorers had reached, was low and extremely barren. Nevertheless it had on it a large colony of sea-fowl, which received the strangers with their wonted clamour of indignation—if not of welcome.

As it was near noon at the time, the Captain and Leo went with their sextants to the highest part of the island to ascertain its position; the Eskimos set about making an encampment, unloading the boats, etcetera, and Alf, with hammer and botanical box, set off on a short ramble along the coast, accompanied by Benjy and Butterface.

Sometimes these three kept together and chatted, at other times they separated a little, each attracted by some object of interest, or following the lead, it might have been, of wayward fancy. But they never lost sight of each other, and, after a couple of hours, converged, as if by tacit consent, until they met and sat down to rest on a ledge of rock.

"Well, I do like this sort o' thing," remarked Benjy, as he wiped his heated brow. "There is something to me so pleasant and peaceful about a low rocky shore with the sun blazing overhead and the great sea stretching out flat and white in a dead calm with just ripple enough to let you know it is all alive and hearty—only resting, like a good-humoured and sleepy giant."

"Why, Ben, I declare you are becoming poetical," said Alf with a smile; "your conceptions correspond with those of Buzzby, who writes:—

"'Great Ocean, slumb'ring in majestic calm, Lies like a mighty—a mighty—'

"I—I fear I've forgotten. Let me see:—

"'Great Ocean, slumb'ring in majestic calm, Lies like a mighty—'"

"Giant in a dwalm," suggested Benjy.

"We'll change the subject," said Alf, opening his botanical box and taking out several specimens of plants and rocks. "See, here are some bits of rock of a kind that are quite new to me."

"What's de use ob dem?" inquired Butterface with a look of earnest simplicity.

"The use?" said Benjy, taking on himself to reply; "why, you flat-nosed grampus, don't you know that these bits of rock are made for the express purpose of being carried home, identified, classified, labelled, stuck up in a museum, and stared at by wondering ignoramuses, who care nothing whatever about them, and know less. Geologists are constantly going about the world with their little hammers keeping up the supply."

"Yes, Butterface," said Alf, "Benjy is partly correct; such specimens will be treated as he describes, and be stared at in blank stupidity by hundreds of fellows like himself, but they will also be examined and understood by geologists, who from their profound knowledge of the plans which our Creator seems to have had in arranging the materials of the earth, are able to point out many interesting and useful facts which are not visible to the naked and unscientific eye, such, for instance, as the localities where coal and other precious things may be found."

"Kin dey tell whar' gold is to be found, massa Alf?"

"O yes, they can tell that."

"Den it's dis yer chile as wishes," said Butterface with a sigh, "dat he was a jollygist."

"Oh! Butterface, you're a jolly goose at all events," said Benjy; "wouldn't it be fun to go and discover a gold mine, and dig up as much as would keep us in happy idleness all the rest of our lives? But I say, Alf, have you nothing better than geological specimens in your box—no grubological specimens, eh?"

Alf replied by producing from his box a paper parcel which contained some of the required specimens in the shape of biscuit and pemmican.

"Capital! Well, you are a good fellow, Alf. Let us make a table-cloth of the paper—now, you undisciplined black, don't glare so at the victuals, else you'll grow too hungry for a moderate supply."

When the trio were in the full swing of vigorous feeding, the negro paused, with his mouth full, to ask Alf what would be the use of the North Pole when it was discovered.

"Make matches or firewood of it," said Benjy just as he was about to stop up his impudent mouth with a lump of pemmican.

"Truly, of what use the Pole itself may be—supposing it to exist in the form of a thing," said Alf, "I cannot tell, but it has already been of great use in creating expeditions to the Polar regions. You know well enough, Butterface, for you've been round the Capes of Good Hope and Horn often enough, what a long long voyage it is to the eastern seas, on the other side of the world, and what a saving of time and expense it would be if we could find a shorter route to those regions, from which so many of our necessaries and luxuries come. Now, if we could only discover an open sea in the Arctic regions which would allow our ships to sail in a straight line from England across the North Pole to Behring's Straits, the voyage to the East would be reduced to only about 5000 miles, and we should be able to reach Japan in three or four weeks. Just think what an advantage that would be to commerce!"

"Tea at twopence a pound an' sugar to match—not to mention molasses and baccy, you ignorant nigger!" said Benjy;—"pass the biscuits."

"An' now, massa Alf," said Butterface with an eager look, "we's diskivered dis open sea—eh!"

"Well, it seems as if we had."

"But what good will it do us," argued Benjy, becoming more earnest in the discussion, "if it's all surrounded by a ring of ice such as we have passed over on sledges."

"If," repeated Alf, "in that 'if' lies the whole question. No doubt Enterprise has fought heroically for centuries to overleap this supposed ring of ice, and science has stood expectant on the edge, looking eagerly for the day when human perseverance shall reveal the secrets of the Far North. It is true, also, that we at last appear to have penetrated into the great unknown, but who shall say that the so-called ice-ring has been fully examined? Our explorations have been hitherto confined to one or two parts of it. We may yet find an ever-open entrance to this open Polar sea, and our ships may yet be seen sailing regularly to and fro over the North Pole."

"Just so," said Benjy, "a North Pole steam line once a month to Japan and back—first class accommodation for second class fares. Walrus and white bear parties dropped on the way at the Pole Star Hotel, an easy trip from the Pole itself, which may be made in Eskimo cabs in summer and reindeer sleighs in winter. Return tickets available for six months—touching at China, India, Nova Zembla, Kamtschatka, and Iceland. Splendid view of Hecla and the great Mer de Glace of Greenland—fogs permitting.—Don't eat so much, Butterface, else bu'stin' will surely be your doom."

"Your picture is perhaps a little overdrawn, Ben," rejoined Alf with a smile.

"So would the ancients have said," retorted Benjy, "if you had prophesied that in the nineteenth century our steamers would pass through the Straits of Hercules, up the Mediterranean, and over the land to India; or that our cousins' steam cars would go rattling across the great prairies of America, through the vast forests, over and under the Rocky Mountains from the States to California, in seven days; or that the telephone or electric light should ever come into being."

"Well, you see, Butterface," said Alf, "there is a great deal to be said in favour of Arctic exploration, even at the present day, and despite all the rebuffs that we have received. Sir Edward Sabine, one of the greatest Arctic authorities, says of the route from the Atlantic to the Pacific, that it is the greatest geographical achievement which can be attempted, and that it will be the crowning enterprise of those Arctic researches in which England has hitherto had the pre-eminence. Why, Butterface," continued Alf, warming with his subject, while the enthusiastic negro listened as it were with every feature of his expressive face, and even the volatile Benjy became attentive, "why, there is no telling what might be the advantages that would arise from systematic exploration of these unknown regions, which cover a space of not less than two million, five hundred thousand square miles. It would advance the science of hydrography, and help to solve some of the difficult problems connected with Equatorial and Polar currents. It would enable us, it is said, by a series of pendulum observations at or near the Pole, to render essential service to the science of geology, to form a mathematical theory of the physical condition of the earth, and to ascertain its exact conformation. It would probably throw light on the wonderful phenomena of magnetism and atmospheric electricity and the mysterious Aurora Borealis—to say nothing of the flora of these regions and the animal life on the land and in the sea."

"Why, Alf," exclaimed Benjy in surprise, "I had no idea you were so deeply learned on these subjects."

"Deeply learned!" echoed Alf with a laugh, "why, I have only a smattering of them. Just knowledge enough to enable me in some small degree to appreciate the vast amount of knowledge which I have yet to acquire. Why do you look perplexed, Butterface?"

"'Cause, massa, you's too deep for me altogidder. My brain no big 'nough to hold it all."

"And your skull's too thick to let it through to the little blob of brain that you do possess," said Benjy with a kindly-contemptuous look at his sable friend. "Oh! flatnose, you're a terrible thick-head."

"You's right dere, massa," replied the negro, with a gratified smile at what he deemed a compliment. "You should ha' seed me dat time when I was leetle boy down in Ole Virginny, whar dey riz me, when my gran'moder she foun' me stickin' my fist in de molasses-jar an' lickin' it off. She swarmed at me an' fetch me one kick, she did, an' sent me slap troo a pannel ob de loft door, an' tumbled me down de back stair, whar I felled over de edge an' landed on de top ob a tar barrel w'ich my head run into. I got on my legs, I did, wiv difficulty, an' runned away never a bit de worse—not even a headache—only it was tree months afore I got dat tar rightly out o' my wool. Yes, my head's t'ick 'nough."

While Butterface was speaking, Leo and the Captain were seen approaching, and the three rose to meet them. There was a grave solemnity in the Captain's look which alarmed them.

"Nothing wrong I hope, uncle?" said Alf.

"Wrong! no, lad, there's nothing wrong. On the contrary, everything is right. Why, where do you think we have got to?"

"A hundred and fifty miles from the Pole," said Alf.

"Less, less," said Leo, with an excited look.

"We are not more," said the Captain slowly, as he took off his hat and wiped his brow, "not more than a hundred and forty miles from it."

"Then we could be there in three days or sooner, with a good breeze," cried Benjy, whose enthusiasm was aroused.

"Ay, Ben, if there was nothing in the way; but it's quite clear from what Chingatok says, that we are drawing near to his native land, which cannot be more than fifty miles distant, if so much. You remember he has told us his home is one of a group of islands, some of which are large and some small; some mountainous and others flat and swampy, affording food and shelter to myriads of wild-fowl; so, you see, after we get there our progress northward through such a country, without roads or vehicles, won't be at the rate of ten miles an hour by any means."

"Besides," added Leo, "it would not be polite to Chingatok's countrymen if we were to leave them immediately after arriving. Perhaps they would not let us go, so I fear that we shan't gain the end of our journey yet a while, but that does not matter much, for we're sure to make it out at last."

"What makes the matter more uncertain," resumed the Captain, as they sauntered back to camp, "is the fact that this northern archipelago is peopled by different tribes of Eskimos, some of whom are of a warlike spirit and frequently give the others trouble. However, Chingatok says we shall have no difficulty in reaching this Nothing—as he will insist on styling the Pole, ever since I explained to him that it was not a real but an imaginary point."

"I wonder how Anders ever got him to understand what an imaginary point is," said Benjy.

"That has puzzled me too," returned the Captain, "but he did get it screwed into him somehow, and the result is—Nothing!"

"Out of nothing nothing comes," remarked Leo, as the giant suddenly appeared from behind a rock, "but assuredly nothing can beat Chingatok in size or magnificence, which is more than anything else can."

The Eskimo had been searching for the absentees to announce that dinner was ready, and that Toolooha was impatient to begin; they all therefore quickened their pace, and soon after came within scent of the savoury mess which had been prepared for them by the giant's squat but amiable mother.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

ARRIVAL IN POLOELAND.

Fortune, which had hitherto proved favourable to our brave explorers, did not desert them at the eleventh hour.

Soon after their arrival at Refuge Island a fair wind sprang up from the south, and when the Charity had been carefully patched and repaired, the kites were sent up and the voyage was continued. That day and night they spent again upon the boundless sea, for the island was soon left out of sight behind them, though the wind was not very fresh.

Towards morning it fell calm altogether, obliging them to haul down the kites and take to the oars.

"It can't be far off now, Chingatok," said the Captain, who became rather impatient as the end drew near.

"Not far," was the brief reply.

"Land ho!" shouted Benjy, about half-an-hour after that.

But Benjy was forced to admit that anxiety had caused him to take an iceberg on the horizon for land.

"Well, anyhow you must admit," said Benjy, on approaching the berg, "that it's big enough for a fellow to mistake it for a mountain. I wonder what it's doing here without any brothers or sisters to keep it company."

"Under-currents brought it here, lad," said the Captain. "You see, such a monster as that must go very deep down, and the warm under-current has not yet melted away enough of his base to permit the surface-current to carry him south like the smaller members of his family. He is still travelling north, but that won't last long. He'll soon become small enough to put about and go the other way. I never saw a bigger fellow than that, Benjy. Hayes, the American, mentions one which he measured, about 315 feet high, and nearly a mile long. It had been grounded for two years. He calculated that there must have been seven times as much of it below water as there was above, so that it was stranded in nearly half-a-mile depth of water. This berg cannot be far short of that one in size."

"Hm! probably then his little brothers and sisters are being now crushed to bits in Baffin's Bay," said Benjy.

"Not unlikely, Ben, if they've not already been melted in the Atlantic, which will be this one's fate at last—sooner or later."

From a pool on this berg they obtained a supply of pure fresh water.

When our explorers did at last sight the land it came upon them unexpectedly, in the form of an island so low that they were quite close before observing it. The number of gulls hovering above it might have suggested its presence, but as these birds frequently hover in large flocks over shoals of small fish, little attention was paid to them.

"Is this your native land, Chingatok?" asked the Captain, quickly.

"No, it is over there," said the Eskimo, pointing to the distant horizon; "this is the first of the islands."

As they gazed they perceived a mountain-shaped cloud so faint and far away that it had almost escaped observation. Advancing slowly, this cloud was seen to take definite form and colour.

"I knew it was!" said Benjy, "but was afraid of making another mistake."

Had the boy or his father looked attentively at the giant just then, they would have seen that his colour deepened, his eyes glittered, and his great chest heaved a little more than was its wont, as he looked over his shoulder while labouring at the oars. Perhaps we should have said played with the oars, for they were mere toys in his grasp. Chingatok's little mother also was evidently affected by the sight of home. But the Captain and his son saw it not—they were too much occupied with their own thoughts and feelings. To the Englishmen the sight of land roused only one great all-engrossing thought—the North Pole! which, despite the absurdity of the idea, would present itself in the form of an upright post of terrific magnitude—a worthy axle-tree, as it were, for the world to revolve upon. To the big Eskimo land presented itself in the form of a palatial stone edifice measuring fifteen feet by twelve, with a dear pretty little wife choking herself in the smoke of a cooking-lamp, and a darling little boy choking himself with a mass of walrus blubber. Thus the same object, when presented to different minds, suggested ideas that were:

"Diverse as calm from thunder, Wide as the poles asunder."

It was midnight when the boats drew near to land. The island in which stood the giant's humble home seemed to Captain Vane not more than eight or ten miles in extent, and rose to a moderate height—apparently about five or six hundred feet. It was picturesque in form and composed of rugged rocks, the marks on which, and the innumerable boulders everywhere, showed that at some remote period of the world's history, it had been subjected to the influence of glacial action. No glacier was visible now, however—only, on the rocky summit lay a patch or two of the last winter's snow-drift, which was too deep for the summer sun to melt away. From this storehouse of water gushed numerous tiny rivulets which brawled cheerily rather than noisily among the rocks, watering the rich green mosses and grasses which abounded in patches everywhere, and giving life to countless wild-flowers and berries which decked and enriched the land.

Just off the island—which by a strange coincidence the inhabitants had named Poloe—there were hundreds of other islets of every shape and size, but nearly all of them low, and many flat and swampy—the breeding-grounds of myriads of waterfowl. There were lakelets in many of these isles, in the midst of which were still more diminutive islets, whose moss-covered rocks and fringing sedges were reflected in the crystal water. Under a cliff on the main island stood the Eskimo village, a collection of stone huts, bathed in the slanting light of the midnight sun.

But no sound issued from these huts or from the neighbouring islands. It was the period of rest for man and bird. Air, earth, and water were locked in profound silence and repose.

"We've got to Paradise at last, father," was the first sound that broke the silence, if we except the gentle dip of the oars and the rippling water on the bow.

"Looks like it, Benjy," replied the Captain.

A wakeful dog on shore was the first to scent the coming strangers. He gave vent to a low growl. It was the keynote to the canine choir, which immediately sent up a howl of discord. Forthwith from every hut there leaped armed men, anxious women, and terrified children, which latter rushed towards the cliffs or took refuge among the rocks.

"Hallo! Chingatok, your relations are not to be taken by surprise," said the Captain—or something to that effect—in Eskimo.

The giant shook his head somewhat gravely.

"They must be at war," he said.

"At war! whom with?"

"With the Neerdoowulls," replied Chingatok with a frown. "They are always giving us trouble."

"Not badly named, father," said Benjy; "one would almost think they must be of Scotch extraction."

At that moment the natives—who had been gesticulating wildly and brandishing spears and bone knives with expressions of fury that denoted a strong desire on their part to carve out the hearts and transfix the livers of the newcomers—suddenly gave vent to a shout of surprise, which was succeeded by a scream of joy. Chingatok had stood up in the boat and been recognised. The giant's dog—an appropriately large one— had been the first to observe him, and expressed its feelings by wagging its tail to such an extent that its hind legs had difficulty in keeping the ground.

Immediately on landing, the party was surrounded by a clamorous crew, who, to do them justice, took very little notice of the strangers, so overjoyed were they at the return of their big countryman.

Soon a little pleasant though flattish-faced woman pushed through the crowd and seized the giant. This was his wife Pingasuk, or Pretty One. She was petite—not much larger than Oblooria the timid. The better to get at her, Chingatok went down on his knees, seized her by the shoulders, and rubbed her nose against his so vigorously that the smaller nose bid fair to come off altogether. He had to stoop still lower when a stout urchin of about five years of age came up behind him and tried to reach his face.

"Meltik!" exclaimed the giant, rubbing noses gently for fear of damaging him, "you are stout and fat, my son, you have been eating much blubber— good."

At that moment Chingatok's eyes fell on an object which had hitherto escaped his observation. It was a little round yellow head in his wife's hood, with a pair of small black eyes which stared at him in blank surprise. He made a snatch at it and drew forth—a naked baby!

"Our girlie," said the wife, with a pleased but anxious look; "don't squeeze. She is very young and tender—like a baby seal."

The glad father tried to fold the creature to his bosom; nearly dropped it in his excess of tender caution; thrust it hastily back into his wife's hood, and rose to give a respectful greeting to an aged man with a scrubby white beard, who came forward at the moment.

"Who are these, my son?" asked the old man, pointing to the Englishmen, who, standing in a group with amused expressions, watched the meeting above described.

"These are the Kablunets, father. I met them, as I expected, in the far-off land. The poor creatures were wandering about in a great kayak, which they have lost, searching for nothing!"

"Searching for nothing! my son, that cannot be. It is not possible to search for nothing—at least it is not possible to find it."

"But that is what they come here for," persisted Chingatok; "they call it the Nort Pole."

"And what is the Nort Pole, my son?"

"It is nothing, father."

The old man looked at his stately son with something of anxiety mingled with his surprise.

"Has Chingatok become a fool, like the Kablunets, since he left home?" he asked in a low voice.

"Chingatok is not sure," replied the giant, gravely. "He has seen so much to puzzle him since he went away, that he sometimes feels foolish."

The old Eskimo looked steadily at his son for a few moments, and shook his head.

"I will speak to these men—these foolish men," he said. "Do they understand our language?"

"Some of them understand and speak a little, father, but they have with them one named Unders, who interprets. Come here, Unders."

Anders promptly stepped to the front and interpreted, while the old Eskimo put Captain Vane through an examination of uncommon length and severity. At the close of it he shook his head with profound gravity, and turned again to his son.

"You have indeed brought to us a set of fools, Chingatok. Your voyage to the far-off lands has not been very successful. These men want something that they do not understand; that they could not see if it was before them; that they cannot describe when they talk about it, and that they could not lay hold of if they had it."

"Yes, father," sighed Chingatok, "it is as I told you—nothing; only the Nort Pole—a mere name."

A new light seemed to break in on Chingatok as he said this, for he added quickly, "But, father, a name is something—my name, Chingatok, is something, yet it is nothing. You cannot see it, you do not lay hold of it, yet it is there."

"Toohoo! my son, that is so, no doubt, but your name describes you, and you are something. No one ever goes to a far-off land to search for a name. If this Nort Pole is only a name and not a thing, how can it be?" exclaimed the old man, turning on his heel and marching off in a paroxysm of metaphysical disgust.

He appeared to change his mind, however, for, turning abruptly back, he said to Anders, "Tell these strangers that I am glad to see them; that a house and food shall be given to them, and that they are welcome to Poloe. Perhaps their land—the far-off land—is a poor one; they may not have enough to eat. If so, they may stay in this rich land of mine to hunt and fish as long as they please. But tell them that the Eskimos love wise men, and do not care for foolishness. They must not talk any more about this search after nothing—this Nort Pole—this nonsense— huk!"

Having delivered himself of these sentiments with much dignity, the old man again turned on his heel with a regal wave of the hand, and marched up to his hut.

"That must be the King of Poloe," whispered Captain Vane to Leo, endeavouring to suppress a smile at the concluding caution, as they followed Anders and one of the natives to the hut set apart for them.

The Captain was only half right. Amalatok was indeed the chief of the island, but the respect and deference shown to him by the tribe were owing more to the man's age and personal worth, than to his rank. He had succeeded his father as chief of the tribe, and, during a long life, had led his people in council, at the hunt, and in war, with consummate ability and success. Although old, he still held the reins of power, chiefly because his eldest son and rightful successor—Chingatok's elder brother—was a weak-minded man of little capacity and somewhat malignant disposition. If our giant had been his eldest, he would have resigned cheerfully long ago. As it was, he did not see his way to change the customs of the land, though he could not tell when, or by whom, or under what circumstances, the order of succession had been established. Probably, like many other antiquated customs, it had been originally the result of despotism on the part of men in power, and of stupid acquiescence on the part of an unthinking people.

On reaching his hut the old chief sat down, and, leaning carelessly against the wall, he toyed with a bit of walrus rib, as an Englishman might with a pair of nut-crackers at dessert.

"Why did you bring these barbarians here?"

"I did not bring them, father, they brought me," said the son with a deprecating glance.

"Huk!" exclaimed the chief, after which he added, "hum!"

It was evident that he had received new light, and was meditating thereon.

"My son," continued Amalatok, "these Kablunets seem to be stout-bodied fellows; can they fight—are they brave?"

"They are brave, father, very brave. Even the little one, whom they call Bunjay, is brave—also, he is funny. I have never seen the Kablunets fight with men, but they fight well with the bear and the walrus and the ice. They are not such fools as you seem to think. True, about this nothing—this Nort Pole—they are quite mad, but in other matters they are very wise and knowing, as you shall see before long."