188 THE WORLD OF ICE.

“ Blue eyes,” said one.

“Fair hair,’ cried another.

“And plump,” said a third.

“Wid cheeks like the hide of a walrus,” cried
O’Riley ; “ but, sure, it won’t show wid a veil on.”

“Come, now, you won’t refuse.”

But Buzzby did refuse; not, however, so deter-
minedly but that he was induced at last to allow
his name to be entered in Fred’s note-book as a
supernumerary.

“Hark!” cried the captain; “surely the dogs must
have smelt a bear.”

There was instantly a dead silence in the cabin,
and a long, loud wail from the dogs was heard out-
side,

“It’s not like their usual cry when game is near,”
said the second mate.

“Hand me my rifle, Mivins,” said the captain,
springing up and pulling forward the hood of his
Jumper, as he hurried on deck followed by the crew.

It was a bright, still, frosty night, and the air felt
intensely sharp, as if needles were pricking the skin,
while the men’s breath issued from their lips in white
clouds and settled in hoar-frost on the edges of their
hoods. The dogs were seen galloping about the ice-
hummocks as if in agitation, darting off to a consider-
able distance at times, and returning with low whines
to the ship.

“It is very strange,” remarked the captain. “Jump
down on the ice, boys, and search for footprints, Ex-