By mid-afternoon it had grown quite clear, and they paused for a rest, making another meal of seal meat, very slightly cooked this time, for the oil in the stove gave out as they were cooking. When they started on, the Eskimo swung sharply to the south with a joyful shout. “Emik! Emik!” (Water! Water!) he cried; and soon they saw an open lead in a southerly direction. It was not long before they had the boat in this, and with a sigh of relief Harry settled to the oars, while Joe took the tiller, and the Eskimo ensconced himself in the bow, spear in hand, in the hope of seeing another seal. An hour or two later the clouds to the eastward settled away, and they saw at no great distance the glimmer of snow-clad peaks in the setting sun. Land was in sight, and it seemed as if their troubles were soon to be over. The open water between the pack and the shore could not be far ahead of them, and they found a place where a haul over a space of ice let them into another lead that took them in the right direction. Just before sunset a warning word from the Eskimo bade Harry cease his rowing, and the boat glided gently along through the water, while the Eskimo stood erect with poised spear. Again there was the sudden thrust and the shout of triumph, and another seal was added to their larder. This was a larger one, and they had at least no fear of the starvation which had threatened them at sunrise. Still there was no sign of the ship, and even now a return of the gale, with snow, might easily prove disastrous. Therefore, changing places at the oars, they toiled doggedly on, making another short haul over the ice, and finding the open water just at twilight. They found it full of floating cakes, and as they neared the shore there was much “mush ice” newly formed in the open, which made their passage difficult. It was well into the night when they finally hauled the boat out on the snow-clad land with a great sigh of weariness and relief. It was like coming to a new and strange world, however. The brown tundra was now drifted with snow, and the country round about was in the grip of the beginning of the long Arctic winter. There are years in which this is delayed until late in September, but in others it comes by the very first, and happy are those ships which escape to the warmer waters of the south before it happens. They had not got sight of the ship, but they hoped to on the morrow. At least they were safe from the terrible drifting Arctic pack, and with thankfulness for the watchful care of Providence they once more overturned the dingey, rigged the sail over its open side, packed snow from a drift about it, and crawled into the improvised igloo for the heavy dreamless sleep that follows severe and long-continued toil. CHAPTER VI WINTER LIFE AND INNUIT FRIENDS