“Duke is showing us the way,” he said, “and he can’t be wrong; he has an instinct which is surer than needle or star. Let us follow him.”
Duke went forward, and they all followed confidently. And they were justified in so doing. Soon a distant light appeared on the horizon; it was not to be confounded with a star in the low clouds.
“There’s our light!” cried the doctor.
“Do you think so, Doctor!” asked the carpenter.
“I’m sure of it. Let us push on.”
As they approached the light grew brighter, and soon they enjoyed its full brilliancy; they advanced in full illumination, and their sharply cut shadows ran out behind them over the snow. They hastened their gait, and in about half an hour they were climbing up the steps of Fort Providence.
IX
Cold and Heat
Hatteras and Johnson had waited for the three hunters with some uneasiness. When they returned they were delighted to find a warm and comfortable shelter. That evening the temperature had decidedly fallen, and the thermometer outside stood at −31°. The three were very much fatigued and almost frozen, so that they could hardly drag one foot after the other; fortunately the stoves were drawing well; the doctor became cook, and roasted a few walrus cutlets. At nine o’clock they all five sat down before a nourishing supper.
“On my word,” said Bell, “at the risk of passing for an Eskimo, I will say that food is an important thing in wintering; one ought to take what one can get.”
Each of them having his mouth full, it was impossible for anyone to answer the carpenter at once; but the doctor made a sign that he was right. The walrus cutlets were declared excellent; or, if they made no declarations about it, they ate it all up, which is much more to the purpose. At dessert the doctor made the coffee, as was his custom; he entrusted this task to no one else; he made it at the table, in an alcohol machine, and served it boiling hot. He wanted it hot enough to scald his throat, or else he did not think it worth drinking. That evening he drank it so hot that his companions could not imitate him.
“But you’ll burn yourself, Doctor,” said Altamont.
“Oh no!” was the answer.
“Is your throat lined with copper?” asked Johnson.
“No, my friends; I advise you to take counsel from me. There are some persons, and I am of the number, who drink coffee at a temperature of 131°.”
“One hundred and thirty-one degrees!” cried Altamont; “but the hand can’t support that heat!”
“Evidently, Altamont, since the hand can’t endure more than 122° in the water; but the palate and tongue are not so tender as the hand; they can endure much more.”
“You surprise me,” said Altamont.
“Well, I’m going to convince you.”
And the doctor, bringing the thermometer from the parlor, plunged the bulb into his cup of boiling coffee; he waited until it stood at a 131°, and then he drank it with evident joy. Bell tried to do the same thing, but he burned himself and shouted aloud.
“You are not used to it,” said the doctor.
“Clawbonny,” asked Altamont, “can you tell me the highest temperature the human body can support?”
“Easily,” answered the doctor; “various experiments have been made and curious facts have been found out. I remember one or two, and they serve to show that one can get accustomed to anything, even to not cooking where a beefsteak would cook. So, the story goes that some girls employed at the public bakery of the city of La Rochefoucauld, in France, could remain ten minutes in the oven in a temperature of 300°, that is to say, 89° hotter than boiling water, while potatoes and meat were cooking around them.”
“What girls!” said Altamont.
“Here is another indisputable example. Nine of our fellow-countrymen in 1778, Fordyce, Banks, Solander, Blagden, Home, North, Lord Seaforth, and Captain Phillips, endured a temperature of 295°, while eggs and roast beef were cooking near them.”
“And they were Englishmen!” said Bell, with an accent of pride.
“Yes, Bell,” answered the doctor.
“Oh, Americans could have done better!” said Altamont.
“They would have roasted,” said the doctor, laughing.
“And why not?” answered the American.
“At any rate, they have not tried; still, I stand up for my countrymen. There’s one thing I must not forget; it is incredible if one can doubt of the accuracy of the witnesses. The Duke of Ragusa and Dr. Jung, a Frenchman and an Austrian, saw a Turk dive into a bath which stood at 170°.”
“But it seems to me,” said Johnson, “that that is not equal to other people you mentioned.”
“I beg your pardon,” answered the doctor; “there is a great difference between entering warm air and entering warm water; warm air induces perspiration, and that protects the skin, while in such hot water there is no perspiration and the skin is burned. Hence a bath is seldom hotter than 107°. This Turk must have been an extraordinary man to have been able to endure so great heat.”
“Dr. Clawbonny,” asked Johnson, “what is the usual temperature of living beings?”
“It varies very much,” answered the doctor; “birds are the warmest blooded, and of these the duck and hen are the most remarkable; their temperature is above 110°, while that of the owl is not more than 104°; then come the mammalia, men; the temperature of Englishmen is generally 101°.”
“I’m sure Mr. Altamont
