310 THE WORLD OF ICE.

known hand; but having at last come to realize the
fact that he actually held a real letter in his hand, he
darted behind one of the curious, primitive cottages to
read it. Here he was met by a squad of inquisitive
natives, so with a gesture of impatience he rushed to
another spot; but he was observed and followed by
half-a-dozen Esquimau boys, and in despair he sought
refuge in the small church near which he chanced to
be. He had not been there a second, however, when
two old women came in, and, approaching him, began
to scan him with critical eyes. This was too much, so
Fred thrust the letter into his bosom, darted out, and
was instantly surrounded by a band of natives, who
began to question him in an unknown tongue. See-
ing that there was no other resource, Fred turned
round and fled towards the mountains at a pace that
defied pursuit, and, coming to a halt in the midst of a
rocky gorge that might have served as an illustration
of what chaos was, he sat down behind a big rock
to peruse Isobel’s letter.

Having read it, he re-read it; having re-read it, he
read it over again. Having read it over again, he
meditated a little, exclaiming several times emphati-
cally, “My darling Isobel,” and then he read bits of
it here and there; having done which, he read the
other bits, and so got through it again. As the letter
was a pretty lone one, it took him a considerable
time to do all this. Then it suddenly occurred to him
that he had been thus selfishly keeping it all to him-
self instead of sharing it with his father; so he started