"Well," said Hatteras, impatiently "where are we to go now?" "We had better go down, for I may be mistaken. I may have forgotten the exact locality in seven years!" "Especially when the country is so uniformly monotonous!" added the doctor. "And yet----" murmured Johnson. Shandon had not spoken a word. After walking for a few minutes, Johnson stopped. "But no," he cried, "I am not mistaken!" "Well?" said Hatteras, looking round him. "Do you see that swell of the ground?" asked the boatswain, pointing to a sort of mound with three distinct swells on it. "What do you conclude from that?" asked the doctor. "Those are the three graves of Franklin's sailors. I am sure now that I am not mistaken; the habitations ought to be about a hundred feet from here, and if they are not, they----" He dared not finish his sentence; Hatteras had rushed forward, a prey to violent despair. There, where the wished-for stores on which he had counted ought to have been, there ruin, pillage and destruction had been before him. Who had done it? Animals would only have attacked the provisions, and there did not remain a single rag from the tent, a piece of wood or iron, and, more terrible still, not a fragment of coal! It was evident that the Esquimaux had learnt the value of these objects from their frequent relations with Europeans; since the departure of the _Fox_ they had fetched everything away, and had not left a trace even of their passage. A slight coating of snow covered the ground. Hatteras was confounded. The doctor looked and shook his head. Shandon still said nothing, but an attentive observer would have noticed his lips curl with a cruel smile. At this moment the men sent by Lieutenant Wall came up; they soon saw the state of affairs. Shandon advanced towards the captain, and said: "Mr. Hatteras, we need not despair; happily we are near the entrance to Barrow Strait, which will take us back to Baffin's Sea!" "Mr. Shandon," answered Hatteras, "happily we are near the entrance to Wellington Strait, and that will take us north!" "But how shall we get along, captain?" "With the sails, sir. We have two months' firing left, and that is enough for our wintering." "But allow me to tell you----" added Shandon.