was built that night on the floe, and the joyous feast went on until hunger was appeased; they had driven away its gnawings, and, happily, it returned no more. On the first of August they had passed the terrible bay, and sighted land on its southern side. Familiar landmarks of the whalers came in sight. They passed the Duck Islands and Cape Shackelton, and coasted along by the hills, seeking a cove in which to land. One was soon found, the boats drawn up, a little time spent in thanksgiving and congratulations, and then they lay down on the dry land and slept. They continued to coast near the shore, dodging about among the islands, and dropping into the bays, and landing for rest at night. It was at one of these sleeping-halts on the rocks that Petersen saw one of the natives, whom he recognized as an old acquaintance; he was in his kayak seeking eider-down among the rocks. Petersen hailed him, but the man played shy. "Paul Zacharias," shouted Petersen, "don't you know me? I am Carl Petersen!" "No," replied the man; "his wife says he's dead." The native stared at the weather-beaten, long-bearded man for a moment as he loomed up through the fog, and then turned the bow of his boat, and paddled away as if a phantom was pursuing him. Two days after this the explorers were rowing leisurely along in a fog, which had just began to lift and dimly reveal the objects on shore. At this moment a familiar sound came to them over the water. It was the "huk" of the Esquimo, for which they had often taken the bark of a fox or the startling screech of the gulls; but this "huk! huk!" died away in the home-thrilling "halloo!" "Listen, Petersen! what is it?" Petersen listened quietly for a moment, and then, trembling with emotion, said, in an undertone, "Dannemarkers!" Then the whole company stood up and peered into the distant nooks, in breathless silence to catch the sound again. The sound came again, and all was a moment silent. It was the first Christian voice they had heard beyond their own party for two years. But they saw nothing. Was it not a cheat after all of their nervous, excited feelings? The men sat down again and bent to their oars, and their boats swept in for the cape from which the sound proceeded. They scanned narrowly every nook and green spot where the strangers might be found. A full half hour passed in this exciting search. At last the single mast of a small shallop was seen. Petersen, who had kept himself during the search very still and sober, burst into a fit of crying, relieved by broken exclamations of English and Danish, gulping down his words at intervals, and wringing his hands all the while. "'Tis the Upernavik oil-boat!" "The Mariane has come! and Carlie Mossyn--" Petersen had hit the facts. The annual ship, Mariane, had arrived at Proven, and Carlie Mossyn had come up to get the year's supply of blubber from Kinqatok.