When the pursuers seemed at the very heels of our men, _that one gun_ made cowards of the Esquimo chiefs. They seemed to understand _their_ danger. The whole pack of dogs and men turned seaward, and disappeared among the hummocks. They meant a covert attack. Keeping the shore and avoiding the hiding-places, Petersen and Godfrey pressed on. The night was calm and clear, but the cold was over fifty degrees below zero. When half way, at Cape Parry, they well-nigh fainted and fell. But encouraging each other, they still hurried onward, and made the fifty miles (it was forty in a straight line) in twenty-four hours. The reader understands why they arrived in such distress and exhaustion. CHAPTER XV. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. DURING the two days following the return of Petersen and Godfrey we spent our working hours in building a wall about our hut. It was made of frozen snow, sawed in blocks by our small saw. This wall served a double purpose, that of breaking the wind from our hut, and as a defense against the Esquimo. It gave our abode the appearance of a fort, and we called it Fort Desolation. John muttered: Better call it Fort Starvation! This was in fact no unfitting designation. Our food was nearly gone. Those who alone could keep us from starving were seeking our lives. A feeble, flickering light made the darkness of our hut visible. Darkness, and dampness, and destitution were within, and without were fears. We could not be blamed, perhaps, if the death which threatened us seemed more desirable than life. Yet we could not forget Him who had so often snatched us from the jaws of our enemies--cold, hunger, and savages--and we trusted him to again deliver us. And this he did, for the next day Kalutunah and another hunter appeared. They did not come as enemies, but as angel messengers of mercy from the All-Merciful! The chief was at first shy, nor could he so far lay aside the cowardice of conscious guilt as to lay down for a moment his harpoon, at other times left at the hut door. He brought, to conciliate us, a goodly piece of walrus meat. After spending an hour with us he dashed out upon the ice on a moonlight hunt for bears. Petersen spent the day in making knives for the Esquimo, in anticipation of restored friendship. With an old file he filed down some pieces of an iron hoop, punching rivet holes with the file, and whittling a handle from a fragment of the "Hope." Though the knife, when done, was not like one of "Rogers's best," it was no mean article for an Esquimo blubber and bear meat knife. The next day four sledges and six Esquimo made us a call. One of them was our old friend the widow, with her bundle of birds under her arm.