300 THE WORLD OF ICE.

“There he comes! Now, then, not so fast, ye
spalpeen |”

As he spoke, a small fly, which had been captured,
crept out from between his fingers, and sought to
escape. It was the first that had visited these frozen
regions for many, many months, and the whole crew
were summoned on deck to meet it as if it were an
old and valued friend.

“Let it go, poor thing!” cried half-a-dozen of the
men, gazing at the little prisoner with a devree of in-
terest that cannot be thoroughly understood by those
who have not passed through experiences similar to
those of our Arctie voyagers.

2

“Ay, don’t hurt it, poor thing! You're squeezin’
it too hard!” cried Amos Parr.

“Squaazing it! no, then, I’m not. Go, avic, an’ me
blessin’ go wid ye.”

The big, rough hand opened, and the tiny insect,
spreading its gossamer wings, buzzed away into the
bright atmosphere, where it was soon lost to view.

“Rig up the ice-saws, Mr. Bolton; set all hands at
them, and get out the powder-canisters,” cried Captain
Guy, coming hastily on deck.

“Ay, ay, sir,’ responded the mate. “All hands to
the ice-saws! Look alive, boys! Ho! Mr. Saunders!
Where’s Mr. Saunders ?”

“Here ’am,” answered the worthy second mate in a
quiet voice,

“Oh, yowre there! Get up some powder, Mr.
Saunders, and a few canisters.”