The winter in the pack was not entirely without the presence of game, for in the beginning of November a bear crept up to the yacht, attracted by odors from the cook's galley. Fortunately an alert quartermaster detected his form outlined against the snow and at once shouted to the dogs. Some of them ran like cowards, while others, rushing the bear, closed in on him, biting his legs as he ran. Crossing a lane of lately frozen sea, the bear broke through the new ice, followed by a number of dogs who held fast to him in the water-space. One dog, old Sophy, fared badly at close quarters, receiving a deep cut in one of her shoulders from his sharp claws. It took four shots to kill the animal, it being a large male bear seven feet three inches long. McClintock tells us that "The chase and death were exciting. A misty moon affording but scanty light, dark figures gliding singly about, not daring to approach each other, for the ice trembled under their feet, the enraged bear, the wolfish, howling dogs, and the bright flashes of the rifles made a novel scene." The escape from the pack was made under conditions that would turn one's hair gray in a few days. For eighteen hours the chief stood fast at his engines, while navigation was made through very high seas, with waves from ten to thirteen feet high, which threatened to destroy the yacht by driving against her great ice-floes which shook the vessel violently and nearly knocked the crew off their legs. Return to Europe for repairs seemed inevitable, but with the thought of poor Lady Franklin in his heart, McClintock patched up the ship as best he could in Greenland, and, crossing Baffin Bay, was driven, after a fruitless sea-search, to winter quarters in Port Kennedy, 72 deg. N. 94 deg. W. Hunting filled in the winter, though most animal life had gone south. Lemmings were plentiful, about twice the size of and resembling the short-tailed field-mouse. Bold and fearless, they enlivened the members of the crew. An ermine visited the ship, and, being seen by one of the dogs, the pack set up a perfect pandemonium in their efforts to catch him. The beautiful snow-white creature rather unconcernedly watched the efforts of the dogs to get at him under the grating of the boat where he was safely ensconced. It was amusing to see an ermine play around the ship, and when closely pursued by man or by dog plunge into a drift of soft snow only to reappear at a considerable distance and in a quarter where least expected. It was with the active little animals a kind of hide-and-seek game, with their lives for forfeit if they were caught.