“You are right. Madge, we must have faith!” said Mrs. Barnett. “We women who do not trouble ourselves about the scientific reasons for physical phenomena can hope, when men who are better informed, perhaps, despair. That is one of our blessings, which our Lieutenant unfortunately does not share. He sees the significance of facts, he reflects, he calculates, he reckons up the time still remaining to us, and I see that he is beginning to lose all hope.”
“He is a brave, energetic man, for all that,” replied Madge.
“Yes,” added Mrs. Barnett, “and if it be in the power of man to save us, he will do it.”
By nine o’clock the two women had walked four miles. They were often obliged to go inland for some little distance, to avoid parts of the coast already invaded by the sea. Here and there the waves had encroached half-a-mile beyond the former high-water line, and the thickness of the ice field had been considerably reduced. There was danger that it would soon yield in many places, and that new bays would be formed all along the coast.
As they got farther from the fort Mrs. Barnett noticed that the number of furred animals decreased considerably. The poor creatures evidently felt more secure near a human habitation. The only formidable animals which had not been led by instinct to escape in time from the dangerous island were a few wolves, savage beasts which even a common danger did not conciliate. Mrs. Barnett and Madge saw several wandering about on the plains, but they did not approach, and soon disappeared behind the hills on the south of the lagoon.
“What will become of all these imprisoned animals,” said Madge, “when all food fails them, and they are famished with hunger in the winter?”
“They will not be famished in a hurry, Madge,” replied Mrs. Barnett, “and we shall have nothing to fear from them; all the martens, ermines, and Polar hares, which we spare will fall an easy prey to them. That is not our danger; the brittle ground beneath our feet, which may at any moment give way, is our real peril. Only look how the sea is advancing here. It already covers half the plain, and the waves, still comparatively warm, are eating away our island above and below at the same time! If the cold does not stop it very soon, the sea will shortly join the lake, and we shall lose our lagoon as we lost our river and our port!”
“Well, if that should happen it will indeed be an irreparable misfortune!” exclaimed Madge.
“Why?” asked Mrs. Barnett, looking inquiringly at her companion.
“Because we shall have no more fresh water,” replied Madge.
“Oh, we shall not want for fresh water, Madge,” said Mrs. Barnett; “the rain, the snow, the ice, the icebergs of the ocean, the very ice field on which we float, will supply us with that; no, no, that is not our danger.”
About ten o’clock Mrs. Barnett and Madge had readied the rising ground above Cape Eskimo, but at least two miles inland, for they had found it impossible to follow the coast, worn away as it was by the sea. Being rather tired with the many detours they had had to make, they decided to rest a few minutes before setting off on their return to Fort Hope. A little hill crowned by a clump of birch trees and a few shrubs afforded a pleasant shelter, and a bank covered with yellow moss, from which the snow had melted, served them as a seat. The little wallet was opened, and they shared their simple repast like sisters.
Half an hour later, Mrs. Barnett proposed that they should climb along the promontory to the sea, and find out the exact state of Cape Eskimo. She was anxious to know if the point of it had resisted the storm, and Madge declared herself ready to follow “her dear girl” wherever she went, but at the same time reminded her that they were eight or nine miles from Cape Bathurst already, and that they must not make Lieutenant Hobson uneasy by too long an absence.
But some presentiment made Mrs. Barnett insist upon doing as she proposed, and she was right, as the event proved. It would only delay them half an hour after all.
They had not gone a quarter of a mile before Mrs. Barnett stopped suddenly, and pointed to some clear and regular impressions upon the snow. These marks must have been made within the last nine or ten hours, or the last fall of snow would have covered them over.
“What animal has passed along here, I wonder?” said Madge.
“It was not an animal,” said Mrs. Barnett, bending down to examine the marks more closely, “not a quadruped certainly, for its four feet would have left impressions very different from these. Look, Madge, they are the footprints of a human person!”
“But who could have been here?” inquired Madge; “none of the soldiers or women have left the fort, and we are on an island, remember. You must be mistaken, my dear; but we will follow the marks, and see where they lead us.”
They did so, and fifty paces farther on both again paused.
“Look, Madge, look!” cried Mrs. Barnett, seizing her companion’s arm, “and then say if I am mistaken.”
Near the footprints there were marks of a heavy body having been dragged along the snow, and the impression of a hand.
“It is the hand of a woman or a child!” cried Madge.
“Yes!” replied Mrs. Barnett; “a woman or a child has fallen here exhausted, and risen again to stumble farther on; look, the footprints again, and father on more falls!”
“Who, who could it have been?” exclaimed Madge.
“How can I tell?” replied Mrs. Barnett. “Some unfortunate creature imprisoned like ourselves for three or four
