Seals now became more numerous in the neighbourhood, and were frequently killed near the _atluks_, or holes, so that fresh meat was secured in abundance, and the scurvy received a decided check. Reindeer, rabbits, and ptarmigan, too, began to frequent the bay, so that the larder was constantly full, and the mess-table presented a pleasing variety--rats being no longer the solitary dish of fresh meat at every meal. A few small birds made their appearance from the southward, and these were hailed as harbingers of the coming summer. One day O'Riley sat on the taffrail, basking in the warm sun, and drinking in health and gladness from its beams. He had been ill, and was now convalescent. Buzzby stood beside him. "I've bin thinkin'," said Buzzby, "that we don't half know the blessin's that are given to us in this here world till we've had 'em taken away. Look, now, how we're enjoyin' the sun an' the heat, just as if it wos so much gold!" "Goold!" echoed O'Riley, in a tone of contempt; "faix I niver thought so little o' goold before, let me tell ye. Goold can buy many a thing, it can, but it can't buy sunshine. Hallo! what's this?" O'Riley accompanied the question with a sudden snatch of his hand. "Look here, Buzzby! Have a care, now! jist watch the openin' o' my fist." "Wot is it?" inquired Buzzby, approaching, and looking earnestly at his comrade's clinched hand with some curiosity. "There he comes! Now, then, not so fast, ye spalpeen!" As he spoke, a small fly, which had been captured, crept out from between his fingers, and sought to escape. It was the first that had visited these frozen regions for many, many months, and the whole crew were summoned on deck to meet it as if it were an old and valued friend. "Let it go, poor thing!" cried half-a-dozen of the men, gazing at the little prisoner with a degree of interest that cannot be thoroughly understood by those who have not passed through experiences similar to those of our Arctic voyagers. "Ay, don't hurt it, poor thing! You're squeezin' it too hard!" cried Amos Parr. "Squaazing it! no, then, I'm not. Go, avic, an' me blessin' go wid ye." The big, rough hand opened, and the tiny insect, spreading its gossamer wings, buzzed away into the bright atmosphere, where it was soon lost to view. "Rig up the ice-saws, Mr. Bolton; set all hands at them, and get out the powder-canisters," cried Captain Guy, coming hastily on deck. "Ay, ay, sir," responded the mate. "All hands to the ice-saws! Look alive, boys! Ho! Mr. Saunders! Where's Mr. Saunders?" "Here 'am," answered the worthy second mate in a quiet voice. "Oh, you're there! Get up some powder, Mr. Saunders, and a few canisters."