It was a new world to Paul, and different from anything he had ever imagined. The utter absence of vessels, the apparently uninhabited and uninhabitable land, the awful primitive grandeur of it all gave him a vague, indescribable sense of fear--such a feeling as one ascending for the first time in a balloon must experience upon peering over the rim of the basket at the receding earth. This sensation quickly gave place to one of exultation--the exultation of a wild animal loosed in its native haunts after long confinement. Paul became possessed of a desire to shout. His blood tingled through his veins. He drank the pure atmosphere in great draughts, and it stimulated him like wine. He felt almost that he could do anything--fly if he wished. This was the first awakening in Paul of the primitive instinct which every human has inherited from prehistoric ancestors--an inborn love of the glorious freedom of the great wide wilderness where individual man stands supreme in his own right and where he may roam at will without restraint; where he feels that he is a person and not an atom; where he may meet nature face to face, and fearlessly match his human skill against her forces. Too often this instinct to retreat for a time to the wild places of the earth, to stand with bared head under the open sky, to breathe great lungfuls of pure atmosphere undefiled by the smoke of chimneys, to make the acquaintance of rocks and trees, of mountains and sea--to renew one’s faith in God--is smothered by the luxuries and pamperings of civilization. So it had been with Paul. Standing on the deck of the _North Star_ that bright July morning, in the midst of nature’s most rugged abode, that primordial instinct slumbering in his breast had then its first awakening. He seemed to expand. He felt himself grow. He longed to set foot upon those mysterious shores--to wrest from them their secrets. Presently he was to do so. Perhaps, had he known how close to the condition of his prehistoric ancestors he was to drift, he would have shrunk from his destiny. It is well for our peace of mind that an all-wise God hides from us today the happenings of tomorrow. At length the _North Star_ passed out into the wider waters of Ungava Bay, and directly after dinner Remington suggested: “Suppose you bring your rifle, Paul, and I’ll get a box of cartridges. We’ll try it out and see how you can shoot.” Paul had been looking forward to this opportunity, and a moment later he appeared with the rifle.