"Where is Toolooah--did he bid you good-by, governor?" said I to Lieutenant Schwatka. "No," he replied, "but you can see him here;" and stepping up to the side of the ship I saw our Toolooah seated in the bow of Armow's boat, his head bent down and his face buried in his hands. "I can understand his feelings exactly," said the governor. "He dare not trust himself to go through the ordeal, poor fellow. He knew he would break down when it came to that, and I am glad he didn't, for I am afraid I should too." Until the morning that we left, it had been confidently expected that Toolooah and his family, consisting of his wife and two children, would accompany us to the United States. It had been the great ambition of his life to visit the wonderful white men's country, and Lieutenant Schwatka had promised to take him home, provided he could obtain the consent of the captain of the vessel in which we returned. Captain Baker had already given his consent, and there seemed nothing to interfere with their plans. Toolooah and his wife were busy in securing suitable clothing in which to appear abroad when occasion should arise for wearing it, and the faithful services he had rendered on our sledge journey were to be recompensed in the United States, from which he would take home an outfit that should last as long as he lived. But the last day we were on shore some of the old men came to Lieutenant Schwatka, and begged he would not be angry if they said that a long and anxious consultation had resulted in the conclusion that it would be running too great a risk for Toolooah to go to the United States. No man of their tribe had ever been to a civilized country but "Esquimau Joe," who, by the bye, had also made up his mind to remain in the Arctic a year or two longer. He had told them of the great mortality attending those of his people from Cumberland Sound who had gone to England and America, and they were afraid. I think that Toolooah, personally, would have willingly encountered the risk; but with these people, such government as they have is patriarchal, and the young men submit with the best grace to the decision of their elders. It was a matter of regret both to Lieutenant Schwatka and myself that we did not have an opportunity to bestow the attention upon him in our own land that his constant care for our safety and comfort in his country entitled him to at our hands. The anchor soon swung at the bow of the 'George and Mary', and her yards were squared for Marble Island, where we were to take on board water for the homeward-bound voyage. Our Inuit friends shouted their last farewells, and we were actually "en route" home.