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

“Don’t you know me, father?—­don’t you remember Fred?—­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.

CHAPTER XX.

Keeping it down—­Mutual explanations—­The true comforter—­Death—­New-Year’s day.

It need scarcely be said that the sailors outside did not remain long in ignorance of the unexpected and happy discovery related in the last chapter.  Bolton, who had crept in after Fred, with proper delicacy of feeling retired the moment he found how matters stood, and left father and son to expend, in the privacy of that chamber of snow, those feelings and emotions which can be better imagined than described.

The first impulse of the men was to give three cheers, but Bolton checked them in the bud.

“No, no, lads.  Ye must hold on,” he said, in an eager but subdued voice.  “Doubtless it would be pleasant to vent our feelings in a hearty cheer, but it would startle the old gentleman inside.  Get along with you, and let us get ready a good supper.”

“O morther!” exclaimed O’Riley, holding on to his sides as if he believed what he said, “me biler’ll bust av ye don’t let me screech.”

“Squeeze down the safety-valve a bit longer, then,” cried Bolton, as they hurried along with the whole population to the outskirts of the village.  “Now, then, ye may fire away, they won’t hear ye—­huzza!”

A long enthusiastic cheer instantly burst from the sailors, and was immediately followed by a howl of delight from the Esquimaux, who capered round their visitors with uncouth gestures and grinning faces.

Entering one of the largest huts, preparations for supper were promptly begun.  The Esquimaux happened to be well supplied with walrus-flesh, so the lamps were replenished, and the hiss of the frying steaks and dropping fat speedily rose above all other sounds.

Meanwhile, Fred and his father, having mutually recovered somewhat of their wonted composure, began to tell each other the details of their adventures since they last met, while the former prepared a cup of coffee and a steak for their mutual comfort.

“But, father,” said Fred, busying himself at the lamp, “you have not yet told me how you came here, and what has become of the Pole Star, and how it was that one of your men came to be buried in the Esquimau fashion, and how you got your leg broken.”

“Truly, Fred, I have not told you all that, and to give it you all in detail will afford us many a long hour of converse hereafter, if it please God, whose tenderness and watchful care of me has never failed.  But I can give you a brief outline of it thus:—­