“It is odd,” said Fred, laughing, “and not a very pleasant idea.  However, as there is at least twelve feet of solid ice between us and the company you mention, we don’t need to care much.”

“Ov coorse not,” replied O’Riley, nodding his head approvingly as he lighted his pipe; “that’s my mind intirely—­in all cases o’ danger, when ye don’t need to be afeard, you needn’t much care.  It’s a good chart to steer by, that same.”

This last remark seemed to afford so much food for thought to the company that nothing further was said by any one until Fred rose and proposed to turn in.  West had already crawled into his blanket-bag, and was stretched out like a mummy on the floor, and the sound of Meetuck’s jaws still continued as he winked sleepily over the walrus-meat, when a scraping was heard outside the hut.

“Sure, it’s the foxes; I’ll go and look,” whispered O’Riley, laying down his pipe and creeping to the mouth of the tunnel.

He came back, however, faster than he went, with a look of consternation, for the first object that confronted him on looking out was the enormous head of a Polar bear.  To glance round for their fire-arms was the first impulse, but these had unfortunately been left on the sledge outside.  What was to be done?  They had nothing but their clasp-knives in the igloe.  In this extremity Meetuck cut a large hole in the back of the hut, intending to creep out and procure one of the muskets; but the instant the opening was made the bear’s head filled it up.  With a savage yell O’Riley seized the lamp and dashed the flaming fat in the creature’s face.  It was a reckless deed, for it left them all in the dark; but the bear seemed to think himself insulted, for he instantly retreated, and when Meetuck emerged and laid hold of a gun he had disappeared.

They found, on issuing into the open air, that a stiff breeze was blowing, which, from the threatening appearance of the sky, promised to become a gale; but as there was no apprehension to be entertained in regard to the stability of the floe, they returned to the hut, taking care to carry in their arms along with them.  Having patched up the hole, closed the doors, rekindled the lamp, and crept into their respective bags, they went to sleep; for, however much they might dread the return of Bruin, sleep was a necessity of nature that would not be denied.

Meanwhile the gale freshened into a hurricane, and was accompanied with heavy snow, and when they attempted to move next morning, they found it impossible to face it for a single moment.  There was no alternative, therefore, but to await the termination of the gale, which lasted two days, and kept them close prisoners all the time.  It was very wearisome, doubtless, but they had to submit, and sought to console themselves and pass the time as pleasantly as possible by sleeping, and eating, and drinking coffee.

CHAPTER XIII.