They noted many good sized stone igloos, chinked with deer moss, at their right as they wound down into the valley, and a small stream, which seemed to issue from the ground near by. It seemed as if little clouds of steam rose from this stream, especially at its source, and at sight of it Joe gave an exclamation of appreciation. “I know about this now,” he said; “it’s one of those hot springs I’ve heard the Eskimos tell about as being inland here. That is why the willows are so tall and everything so forward. It keeps the place warmed up the year round.” But it was little of the brightness and beauty of this little warm-weather oasis in the bleak surroundings that the boys were to see. They were ordered to drop their burdens on reaching the igloos, and presently conducted to one of the strongest built and least prepossessing of them. Once within this, the low entrance was blocked with stone and they were left to themselves. CHAPTER X “THE FEAST OF THE OLD SEAL’S HEAD” The igloo in which Joe and Harry were confined was unlighted except by sundry chinks in the stones through which rays of light pierced the gloom. These showed, as soon as their eyes had become accustomed to the semi-darkness, the customary raised bench at one side covered with some ancient deerskins for a couch, a stone blubber lamp, a stone fireplace in the centre, where charred willow twigs showed that some one had once used it, and nothing more. Yet so weary were the boys with their day’s toil that they threw themselves on this questionable couch and soon slept the sleep of utter fatigue. Some hours later they roused refreshed, and were greeted by a cautious “’St! ’st!” from the blocked entrance. Stepping quickly there, Joe, saw through an opening in the stones a good-natured Eskimo face that lighted up with a smile at sight of him. “Here,” it said in Eskimo. “Plenty eat. By and by have trouble.”