THE WORLD OF ICH. 283

walls, and inside the boots and mittens (when empty)
of the men. And they became so accustomed to havy-
ing missiles thrown at them, that they acquired to
perfection that art which Buzzby described as “ keep-
ing one’s weather-eye open.”

You couldn’t hit one if you tried. If your hand
moved towards an object with which you intended to
deal swift destruction, the intruder paused, and turned
his sharp eyes towards you, as if to say, “ What! going
to try it again ?—come, then, here’s a chance for you.”
But when you threw, at best you could only hit the
empty space it had occupied the moment before. Or,
if you seized a stick, and rushed at the enemy in
wrath, it grinned fiercely, showed its long white teeth,
and then vanished with a fling of its tail that could
be construed into nothing but an expression of con-
tempt.

At last an expedient was hit upon for destroying
these disagreeable inmates. Small bows and arrows
were inade, the latter having heavy, blunt heads, and
with these the men slaughtered hundreds. Whenever
any one was inclined for a little sport, he took up his
bow and arrows, and retiring to a dark corner of the
cabin, watched for a shot. Davie Summers acquired
the title of Nimrod in consequence of his success in
this peculiar field.

At first the rats proved a capital addition to the
dogs’ meals, but at length some of the men were glad
to eat them, especially when fresh meat failed alto-
gether, and scurvy began its assaults. White or