They took stock of their provisions and coal and, as was to be expected, found both ample for a large number of men. Trade goods still held out, and they could purchase what the Eskimos had to offer during the winter, if they cared to. Joe sighed as he looked at the whaling implements, harpoons, bomb guns, and line, left just as they had been abandoned, ready for instant use. He picked up a harpoon and handled it lovingly. “I’ll have a shot or two with you, yet,” he said, “before we get out of the wilderness.” “How do you mean?” asked Harry; “there’s no chance to get whales in winter, is there?” A half-formed plan in Joe’s head took shape in that instant. “No,” he said, “not in winter, but the whales begin to appear in the leads in the ice very early in the spring. Long before the ships can get up here to get at them, the most of them have gone north. Now, situated as we are, we can do whaling right from the ice, if we can get the Eskimos to help us. They will gladly do it for the blubber and meat, and we shall have the bone. That is the best part of a whale nowadays, anyway. Here’s what I plan for the spring and summer. We will get all the bone and furs we can this winter to add to the cargo. We’ll be as careful of the coal as we can, and if the Bowhead comes through the winter all right, as I hope she will, we will try and take her south ourselves, with the help of the Eskimos, when the ice opens next summer.” Thus, well provided for in the present, and with roseate plans for the future, they began the winter. Daily the sun got lower; so did the mercury in the thermometer; and often for days there was no sight of the former because of flying snow and the deep haze of frost-fog. The ice set more and more firmly about the Bowhead, and the pack which ground and crushed against the edge of the shore ice outside the headland no longer made any answering movement in the frozen stretch about her. The winter was upon them, and there were times when their ice igloo was put to severe tests as a frost defender. It stood them all well, and with a good fire in the galley range, it was always comfortable within. In the open space between the galley and the igloo frost crystals collected, till, in the glow of lamplight, the narrow way looked like a fairy grotto, all hung with spangles and frost gems. The temperature there was always below freezing, and Joe prosaically suggested that it would be a good place to hang their fresh meat, if they had any to hang. “I wish our Eskimo friend would come back and spear a seal for us,” said Harry. “We’ve had no fresh meat since he left. Suppose he got home safe?” They were to have fresh meat soon, however, by way of a most interesting adventure that began the very night after.