“Hush! stop your nonsense, man,” said Fred.  “I see a deer, I’m certain of it.”

Meetuck nodded violently to indicate that Fred was right.

“Well, what’s to be done?  Luckily we are well to leeward, and it has neither sighted nor scented us.”

Meetuck replied by gestures and words to the effect that West and O’Riley should remain with the dogs, and keep them quiet under the shelter of a hummock, while he and Fred should go after the reindeer.  Accordingly, away they went, making a pretty long detour in order to gain the shore, and come upon it under the shelter of the grounded floes, behind which they might approach without being seen.  In hurrying along the coast they observed the footprints of a musk-ox, and also of several Arctic hares and foxes; which delighted them much, for hitherto they had seen none of these animals, and were beginning to be fearful lest they should not visit that part of the coast at all.  Of course Fred knew not what sort of animals had made the tracks in question, but he was an adept at guessing, and the satisfied looks of his companion gave him reason to believe that he was correct in his surmises.

In half-an-hour they came within range, and Fred, after debating with himself for some time as to the propriety of taking the first shot, triumphed over himself, and stepping back a pace, motioned to the Esquimau to fire.  But Meetuck was an innate gentleman, and modestly declined; so Fred advanced, took a good aim, and fired.

The deer bounded away, but stumbled as it went, showing that it was wounded.

“Ha! ha!  Meetuck,” exclaimed Fred, as he recharged in tremendous excitement (taking twice as long to load in consequence), “I’ve improved a little, you see, in my shoot—­oh bother this—­ramrod!—­tut! tut! there, that’s it.”

Bang went Meetuck’s musket at that moment, and the deer tumbled over upon the snow.

“Well done, old fellow!” cried Fred, springing forward.  At the same instant a white hare darted across his path, at which he fired, without even putting the gun to his shoulder, and knocked it over, to his own intense amazement.

The three shots were the signal for the men to come up with the sledge, which they did at full gallop, O’Riley driving, and flourishing the long whip about in a way that soon entangled it hopelessly with the dogs’ traces.

“Ah, then, ye’ve done it this time, ye have, sure enough.  Musha! what a purty crature it is.  Now, isn’t it, West?  Stop, then, won’t ye (to the restive dogs); ye’ve broke my heart entirely, and the whip’s tied up into iver so many knots.  Arrah, Meetuck! ye may drive yer coach yerself for me, you may; I’ve had more nor enough of it.”

In a few minutes the deer and the hare were lashed to the sledge—­which the Irishman asserted was a great improvement, inasmuch as the carcass of the former made an excellent seat—­and they were off again at full gallop over the floes.  They travelled without further interruption or mishap, until they drew near to the open water, when suddenly they came upon a deep fissure or crack in the ice about four feet wide, with water in the bottom.  Here they came to a dead stop.