The sledge-dogs were barking with joy, and vaulting and leaping over each other, a perfect whirlwind of happiness.
They were convinced in their own minds that they were back again in Greenland, and would soon be landed to live happy ever after. Even the Shetland ponies stretched long necks towards the iceberg. They snuffed something unusual, anyhow, and felt that something was going to happen.
But the behaviour of the bears was strangest of all. I believe that long before the berg was sighted, these yellow-white monsters were aware of its presence on the horizon.
They became unusually restive, walking rapidly up and down their cage, and tossing their heads in the air.
There was none too much room in their quarters, so, of course, they got in each other’s way. Gruff was a good-hearted bear, and kind even to his dog companions, but he knew he was king of that cage, and conducted himself according. If their language of eyes and gestures could be translated into English, it would be as follows:—
“I’m certain,” Gruff said to Growley—“I’m certain, my dear, we are near home at last, and won’t I be glad, just! I’m longing for a bit of fresh seal-steak.”
“And so am I,” said Growley.
“And so am I,” said Grumpey, yawning.
Gruff slued smartly round, and landed Grumpey a blow that sent him sprawling on the deck.
“Who asked your opinion, eh? Can’t you learn better manners than interfere when your king and queen are talking?”