was so dark that I could not see where to step, and my feet would slip
down and wedge in the angle between the sharp stones, or the point of a
rock would come right in the hollow of my foot, until I stumbled and
floundered and almost screamed with pain. And yet no familiar
landmarks. I began to despair, or rather to doubt my physical ability
to proceed, when the sharp-eyed Netchuk called my attention to the
light from a tupic at a considerable distance, and a little to our
right. This was indeed refreshing, so we kept on as well as we could,
though we often fell, and I staggering with a strained cord in one foot
and the skin worn off the sole of the other. But there were the lights
ahead, and we kept right straight for them, though no matter how far we
walked they seemed just the same distance off. It was certainly
discouraging, and I could not help thinking of the will-o'-the-wisp,
and wondering if the phenomenon was ever seen in the Arctic. I could
not remember any instance in my reading, and determined to reach that
light or perish in the effort. At last it did seem nearer. We could
make out the shapes of the tents, and finally we could hear dogs
barking and snarling, and before long we were there. We found the
lights in the tupics that were occupied by the old folks left behind at
Camp Daly by the hunters, and found "Alex Taylor," "Sam," and the boy
had just got in; so, after learning that "Alex" had killed two deer
with my gun, "Sam" and Koumania and I went up to our own tent, which
was dark.

[Illustration: A CAIRN.]

These were our diversions. Our business was to inquire into the truth
of Captain Barry's story. Pursuing our investigation through the next
three months, we learned that there had never been other than three
families of Natchillis living with the Iwillik Esquimaux. One of those,