north as fast as our almost exhausted dogs could take us, to look for people. We calculated that at a distance of about sixty-four English miles from Cape York we ought to come across Eskimos at Saunders Island, and if not there, then at Natsilivik, some forty English miles farther north. All the provisions we could take were a few biscuits and a box of butter. Still, we had our rifles to fall back upon.
The sealers had gone out to try their luck, and we waited for them to return—which they did empty-handed. Then we drank a little cocoa, and drove off along the glorious rocky coast, into the clear, light night.
In the neighbourhood of Cape Atholl we discovered fresh sledge-tracks, which we followed up. They led to a stone cairn, under a steep wall of rock, which cairn contained a large deposit of freshly-caught bearded seal. Ah! then we could not be far from human beings. The intense suspense of it! For it almost meant our comrade's life.
We had driven all night—some twelve hours, and a little way beyond Cape Atholl were obliged to pull up, to give the dogs a rest and breathing time. We had covered about fifty-six English miles at full gallop, and, should we be forced to drive all the way to Natsilivik, should have to make reasonable allowance for the empty stomachs of our poor animals. We flung ourselves down on the ice, discussed our prospects, ate a little butter—we simply dared not eat our biscuits,—lay down on our sledges and went to sleep.
After three hours' rest we went on again.
We had only driven a little way, when a black dot became visible in front. It developed and grew into a sledge.
"Jörgen!—Knud!—Jörgen!—Knud!"
We were half mad with relief and delight, and could only call out each other's names.
Speed signal! The dogs drop their tails and prick up their ears. We murmur the signal again between our teeth, and the snow swirls up beneath their hind legs. A biting wind cuts us in the face. At last! at last! people, other people, the new people—the Polar Eskimos!
