Tells of a Warlike Expedition and its Happy Termination.  
While these stirring events were taking place in Flatland, our friends in the Island of Poloe continued to fish and hunt, and keep watch and ward against their expected enemies in the usual fashion; but alas for the poor Englishmen! All the light had gone out of their eyes; all the elasticity had vanished from their spirits. Ah! it is only those who know what it is to lose a dear friend or brother, who can understand the terrible blank which had descended on the lives of our discoverers, rendering them, for the time at least, comparatively indifferent to the events that went on around them, and totally regardless of the great object which had carried them so far into those regions of ice.
 
They could no longer doubt that Leo and his companions had perished, for they had searched every island of the Poloe group, including that one on which Leo and the Eskimos had found temporary refuge. Here, indeed, a momentary gleam of hope revived, when Alf found the spent cartridge-cases which his brother had thrown down on the occasion of his shooting for the purpose of impressing his captors, and they searched every yard of the island, high and low, for several days, before suffering themselves to relapse into the old state of despair. No evidence whatever remained to mark the visit of the Eskimos, for these wily savages never left anything behind them on their war-expeditions, and the storm had washed away any footprints that might have remained in the hard rocky soil.
 
Amalatok—who, with his son and his men, sympathised with the Englishmen in their loss, and lent able assistance in the prolonged search—gave the final death-blow to their hopes by his remarks, when Captain Vane suggested that perhaps the lost ones had been blown over the sea to Flatland.
 
“That is not possible,” said Amalatok promptly.
 
“Why not? The distance is not so very great.”
 
“The distance is not very great, that is true,” replied Amalatok. “If Lo had sailed away to Flatland he might have got safely there, but Blackbeard surely forgets that the storm did not last more than a few hours. If Lo had remained even a short time on this island, would not the calm weather which followed the storm have enabled him to paddle back again to Poloe? No, he must have thought the storm was going to be a long one, and thinking that, must have tried, again to face it and paddle against it. In this attempt he has perished. Without doubt Lo and Unders and Oblooria are in the land of spirits.”
 
Eskimos of the far north, unlike the red men of the prairies, are prone to give way to their feelings. At the mention of the timid one’s name, Oolichuk covered his face with his hands and wept aloud. Poor Alf and Benjy felt an almost irresistible desire to join him. All the fun and frolic had gone completely out of the latter, and as for Alf, he went about like a man half asleep, with a strange absent look in his eyes and a perfect blank on his expressionless face. No longer did he roam the hills of Poloeland with geological hammer and box. He merely went fishing when advised or asked to do so, or wandered aimlessly on the sea-shore. The Captain and Benjy acted much in the same way. In the extremity of their grief they courted solitude.
 
The warm hearts of Chingatok and the negro beat strong with sympathy. They longed to speak words of comfort, but at first delicacy of feeling, which is found in all ranks and under every skin, prevented them from intruding on sorrow which they knew not how to assuage.
 
At last the giant ventured one day to speak to Alf. “Has the Great Spirit no word of comfort for His Kablunet children?” he asked.
 
“Yes, yes,” replied Alf quickly. “He says, ‘Call upon me in the time of trouble and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.’”
 
“Have you not called?” asked Chingatok with a slight look of surprise.
 
“No; I say it to my shame, Chingatok. This blow has so stunned me that I had forgotten my God.”
 
“Call now,” said the giant earnestly. “If He is a good and true God, He must keep His promise.”
 
Alf did call, then and there, and the Eskimo stood and listened with bowed head and reverent look, until the poor youth had concluded his prayer with the name of Jesus.
 
The negro’s line of argument with Benjy was different and characteristically lower toned.
 
“You muss keep up de heart, Massa Benjy. Nobody nebber knows wot may come for to pass. P’r’aps Massa Leo he go to de Nort Pole by hisself. He was allers bery fond o’ takin’ peepil by surprise. Nebber say die, Massa Benjy, s’long’s der’s a shot in de locker.”
 
At any other time Benjy would have laughed at the poor cook’s efforts to console him, but he only turned away with a sigh.
 
Two days after that the Eskimos of Poloe were assembled on the beach making preparations to go off on a seal hunt.
 
“Is that a whale on the horizon or a walrus!” asked the Captain, touching Chingatok on the arm as they stood on the edge of the sea, ready to embark.
 
“More like a black gull,” said Benjy, “or a northern diver.”
 
Chingatok looked long and earnestly at the object in question, and then said with emphasis—“A kayak!”
 
“One of the young men returning from a hunt, I suppose,” said Alf, whose attention was aroused by the interest manifested by the surrounding Eskimos.
 
“Not so,” said Amalatok, who joined the group at the moment, “the man paddles like a man of Flatland.”
 
“What! one of your enemies?” cried the Captain, who, in his then state of depression, would have welcomed a fight as a sort of relief. Evidently Butterface shared his hopes, for he showed the whites of his eyes and grinned amazingly as he clenched his horny hands.
 
“Yes—our enemies,” said Amalatok.
 
“The advanced guard of the host,” said the Captain, heartily; “come, the sooner we get ready for self-defence the better.”
 
“Yis, dat’s de word,” said the negro, increasing his grin for a moment and then collapsing into sudden solemnity; “we nebber fights ’cep’ in self-defence—oh no—nebber!”
 
“They come not to attack,” said Chingatok quietly. “Flatlanders never come except in the night when men sleep. This is but one man.”
 
“Perhaps he brings news!” exclaimed Benjy, with a sudden blaze of hope.
 
“Perhaps,” echoed Alf, eagerly.
 
“It may be so,” said Chingatok.
 
It was not long before the question was set at rest. The approaching kayak came on at racing speed. Its occupant leaped on shore, and, panting from recent exertion, delivered his thrilling message.
 
“Prisoners in Flatland,” said the Captain at the council of war which was immediately summoned, “but alive and well. Let us be thankful for that good news, anyhow; but then, they ask us to help them, quickly. That means danger.”
 
“Yes, danger!” shouted Oolichuk, who, at the thought of Oblooria in the hands of his foes, felt an almost irresistible desire to jump at some of the youths of his own tribe, and kill them, by way of relieving his feelings.
 
“Rest content, Oolichuk,” cried Amalatok, with a horrible grinding of his teeth; “we will tear out their hearts, and batter in their skulls, and—”
 
“But,” resumed the Captain hastily, “I do not think the danger so great. All I would urge is that we should not delay going to their rescue—”
 
“Ho! huk! hi!” interrupted the whole band of assembled warriors, leaping up and going through sundry suggestive actions with knives and spears.
 
&ldq............