THE WORLD OF ICE. 261

There was little furniture in this rude dwelling. A
dull flame flickered in a stone lamp which hung from
the roof, and revealed the figure of a large Esquimau
reclining on a couch of skins at the raised side of the
hut.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you know me, father ?—don’t you remember
Fred 2—look at—’

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

“Ah! these dreams,” murmured the old man; “I
wish they did not come so-—”

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