"I knowed ye would come, captain; bless you, sir," said Amos Parr, in an unsteady voice. "Come! Av coorse ye knowed it," cried O'Riley energetically. "Och, but don't be long wid the mate, darlints, me stummik's shut up intirely." "There won't be room for us all here, I'm afraid," remarked Bolton. This was true. The hut was constructed to hold six, and it was impossible that ten could _sleep_ in it, although they managed to squeeze in. "Never mind that," cried the captain. "Here, take a drop of soup; gently, not too much at a time." "Ah, then, it's cruel of ye, it is, to give me sich a small taste." It was necessary, however, to give men in their condition a "small taste" at first, so O'Riley had to rest content. Meanwhile, the rescue party supped heartily, and after a little more food had been administered to the half-starved men, preparations were made for spending the night. The tent was pitched, and the sleeping-bags spread out on the snow. Then Captain Guy offered up fervent thanks to God for his protection thus far, and prayed shortly but earnestly for deliverance from their dangerous situation; after which they all lay down and slept soundly till morning--or at least as soundly as could be expected with a temperature at 55° below zero. Next morning they prepared to set out on their return to the ship. But this was no easy task. The exhausted men had to be wrapped up carefully in their blankets, which were sewed closely round their limbs, then packed in their sleeping-bags and covered completely up, only a small hole being left opposite their mouths to breathe through, and after that they were lashed side by side on the small sledge. The larger sledge, with the muskets, ammunition, and spare blankets, had to be abandoned. Then the rescue party put their shoulders to the tracking-belts, and away they went briskly over the floes. But the drag was a fearfully heavy one for men who, besides having walked so long and so far on the previous day, were, most of them, much weakened by illness, and very unfit for such laborious work. The floes, too, were so rugged that they had frequently to lift the heavy sledge and its living load over deep rents and chasms which, in circumstances less desperate, they would have scarcely ventured to do. Work as they would, however, they could not make more than a mile an hour, and night overtook them ere they reached the level floes. But it was of the utmost importance that they should continue to advance, so they pushed forward until a breeze sprang up that pierced them through and through. Fortunately there was a bright moon in the sky, which enabled them to pick their way among the hummocks. Suddenly, without warning, the whole party felt an alarming failure of their energies. Captain Guy, who was aware of the imminent danger of giving way to this feeling, cheered the men to greater exertion by word and voice, but failed to rouse them. They seemed like men walking in their sleep.