We immediately set a watch outside, who was relieved every hour; he was armed with Bonsall's rifle. Our other guns we fired off and carefully reloaded, hanging them upon their pegs for instant use. Petersen and Godfrey awoke once, ate, and lay down to their agitated sleep. No others slept, or even made the attempt. The creak of the boots of the sentinel as he tramped his beat near the hut, on a little plain cleared of snow by the wind, was the only sound which broke the solemn silence. The enemy would not dare attack us except unawares, knowing, as they did, that there were eight of us, armed with guns. At midnight noises were heard about the rocks of the coast. They were watching, but seeing the sentinel, and finding it a chilling business to wait for our cessation of vigilance, they sneaked away. In the morning one of our men visited the rocky coverts and found their fresh tracks. We received at the earliest opportunity the details of Petersen's story. They left us on the third of November, and were gone four days. They arrived in Netlik in nine hours, and were lodged one in each of the two _igloës_. Their welcome had a seeming heartiness. They had a full supply set before them of tender young bear-steak and choice puppy stew. Many strangers were present, and they continued to come until the huts were crowded. The next day the hunters all started early on the chase, to get, as Kalutunah said, a good supply for their excursion to the ship, as well as a store for their families. This looked reasonable, but when night came the chief and a majority of the men returned not, nor did they appear the next day. The moon had just passed its full, no time could be spared for trifling, and Petersen grew uneasy. This feeling was increased by the strangers which continued to come, the running to and fro of the women, the side glances, and the covert laugh among the crowd. Kalutunah returned on the evening of the third day of our men at the hut. Several sledges accompanied him, and one of them was driven by a brawny savage by the name of Sipsu. He had shown his ugly face once at our hut. He was above the usual height, broad-chested and strong limbed. He had a few bristly hairs upon his chin and upper lip, and dark, heavy eyebrows overshadowed his well set, evil-looking eyes. He was every inch a savage. While the crowd laughed, joked, and fluttered curiously about the strangers, Sipsu was dignified, sullen, or full of dismal stories. He had, he said, killed two men of his tribe. They were poor hunters, so he stole upon them from behind a hummock, and harpooned them in the back. Whatever shrewdness Sipsu possessed, he did not have wit enough to hide his true character from his intended victims.