THE WORLD OF ICE. 167

approvingly as he lighted his pipe; “that’s my mind
intirely—in all cases o’ danger, when ye don’t need to
be afeard, you needn’t much care. It’s a good chart
to steer by, that same.”

This last remark seemed to afford so much food for
thought to the company that nothing further was said
by any one until Fred rose and proposed to tur in.
West had already crawled into his blanket-bag, and
was stretched out like a mummy on the floor, and the
sound of Meetuck’s jaws still continued as he winked
sleepily over the walrus-meat, when a scraping was
heard outside the hut.

“ Sure, it’s the foxes; [ll go and look,” whispered
O'Riley, laying down his pipe and ereeping to the
mouth of the tunnel.

He came back, however, faster than he went, with
a look of consternation, for the first object that con-
fronted him on looking out was the enormous head
of a Polar bear. To glance round for their fire-arms
was the first impulse, but these had unfortunately been
left on the sledge outside. What was to be done?
They had nothing but their clasp-knives in the
igloe. In this extremity Mectuck cut a large hole
in the back of the hut, intending to ercep out and
procure one of the muskets; but the instant the open-
ing was made the bear’s head filled it up. With a
savage yell O'Riley seized the lamp and dashed the
flaming fat in the creature’s face. It was a reckless
deed, for it left them all in the dark; but the bear
seemed to think himself insulted, for he instantly re-