"Come, Saunders, cheer up, man!" cried the captain, shaking the mate by the arm; but Saunders stood still, swaying to and fro like a drunken man. Mizzle begged to be allowed to sleep, if it were only for two minutes, and poor Davie Summers deliberately threw himself down on the snow, from which, had he been left, he would never more have risen. The case was now desperate. In vain the captain shook and buffeted the men. They protested that they did not feel cold--"they were quite warm, and only wanted a little sleep." He saw that it was useless to contend with them, so there was nothing left for it but to pitch the tent. This was done as quickly as possible, though with much difficulty, and the men were unlashed from the sledge and placed within the tent. The others then crowded in, and falling down beside each other were asleep in an instant. The excessive crowding of the little tent was an advantage at this time, as it tended to increase their animal heat. Captain Guy allowed them to sleep only two hours, and then roused them in order to continue the journey; but short though the period of rest was, it proved sufficient to enable the men to pursue their journey with some degree of spirit. Still it was evident that their energies had been overtaxed; for when they neared the ship next day, Tom Singleton, who had been on the look-out, and advanced to meet them, found that they were almost in a state of stupor, and talked incoherently--sometimes giving utterance to sentiments of the most absurd nature with expressions of the utmost gravity. Meanwhile, good news was brought them from the ship. Two bears and a walrus had been purchased from the Esquimaux, a party of whom--sleek, fat, oily, good-humoured, and hairy--were encamped on the lee side of the _Dolphin_, and were busily engaged in their principal and favourite occupation--eating! CHAPTER XXIV. _Winter ends--The first insect--Preparations for departure--Narrow escape--Cutting out--Once more afloat--Ship on fire--Crew take to the boats._ Winter passed away, with its darkness and its frost, and, happily, with its sorrows; and summer--bright, glowing summer--came at last, to gladden the heart of man and beast in the Polar Regions. We have purposely omitted to make mention of spring, for there is no such season, properly so called, within the Arctic Circle. Winter usually terminates with a gushing thaw, and summer then begins with a blaze of fervent heat. Not that the heat is really so intense as compared with that of southern climes, but the contrast is so great that it _seems_ as though the Torrid Zones had rushed towards the Pole. About the beginning of June there were indications of the coming heat. Fresh water began to trickle from the rocks, and streamlets commenced to run down the icebergs. Soon everything became moist, and a marked change took place in the appearance of the ice-belt, owing to the pools that collected on it everywhere and overflowed.