“It beats natur’, quite,” said one.

“All to sticks,” cried another.

“And wot a tree-mendous giant he makes.  Three cheers for Peter Grim, lads!”

Three cheers were promptly given with right goodwill, but the giant did not move a muscle.  He was far too deeply impressed with the importance of playing his part well to acknowledge the compliment.  Having gazed long enough to enable the men to get rid of their first flow of enthusiasm, Blunderbore rose majestically, and coming forward to the foot-lights, looked straight over the heads of the men, and addressed himself to the opposite bulk-head.

“Oh! ’tis a dismal thing,” he began, and continued to spout his part with flashing eyes and considerable energy, until he came to the word Blunderbuss, when, either from a mistaken notion as to when it was his time to go on, or nervous forgetfulness of the plan of the piece, the Little Bear sprang over the edge of the iceberg and alighted on the middle of the stage.

“Oh! bad luck to yees intirely,” said the Big Bear from behind the scenes in an angry whisper, which was distinctly heard by the audience, “ye’ve gone and spoiled it all, ye have.  Come off, will ye, and take yer turn at the right time, won’t ye?”

In the midst of the shout of delight caused by this mistake, O’Riley, forgetting that he was a bear, rushed on the stage on his hind legs, seized the Little Bear by the fore leg, and dragged him off at the other side amid loud applause.  Blunderbore, with admirable self-possession, resumed his part the instant there was a calm, and carried it successfully to a close.

Just as he ended, Fred waddled on, in the guise of an Esquimau woman; and so well was he got up that the crew looked round to see if Aninga (who, with her husband, had been allowed to witness the play) was in her place.  Fred had intentionally taken Aninga as his model, and had been very successful in imitating the top-knot of hair.  The baby, too, was hit off to perfection, having been made by Mivins, who proved himself a genius in such matters.  Its head was a ball of rags covered with brown leather, and two white bone buttons with black spots in the centre did duty for its eyes.

The first thing Whackinta did on coming forward was to deposit the baby on the snow with its head downwards by mistake, whereat it began to scream vociferously.  This scream was accomplished by Davie Summers creeping below the stage and putting his mouth to a hole in the flooring close to which the baby’s head lay.  Davie’s falsetto was uncommonly like to a child’s voice, and the effect was quite startling.  Of course Whackinta tried to soothe it, and failing in this she whipped it, which caused it to yell with tenfold violence.  Thereafter losing all patience, she covered its face and stuffed its mouth with a quantity of snow, and laying it down on its back, placed a large block of ice on its head.  This, as might be expected, had the desired effect, and the baby was silenced—­not, however, until Whackinta had twice called down the hole in a hoarse whisper, “That’ll do, Davie; stop, man, stop!” Then, sitting down on the hummock which Blunderbore had just left—­and from behind which he was now eagerly watching her—­she began to weep.