The light was now growing upon us from day to day, and we found a fresh excitement in the renewal of the hunt. It must not, however, be supposed that, even at noon, we had yet any daylight; but there was a twilight, which was increasing with each successive day. The reindeer had grown very poor during the winter, and their flesh was tough and almost tasteless; but this did not discourage the hunters, and several captures were made. One day a large herd came down near the store-house, which, being reported, caused a general scramble for guns, and a rush over the hills to surround the game. The crew appeared more like boys on a holiday frolic than men catering for their mess. They made noise enough, as one would have thought, to frighten every living thing from the neighborhood; but, nevertheless, three deer were shot. The thermometer stood at 41° below zero, and, there being a light wind, the air was somewhat biting, and gave rise to numerous incidents quite characteristic of our life. The handling of the cold gun was attended with some risk to the fingers, as one can neither pull the trigger nor load with a mittened hand; and there were quite a number of slight "burns," as wounds from this cause were jestingly called. McDonald carried an old flint-lock musket, the only weapon that he could lay his hands on, and in the midst of the excitement he was heard to fire. Hurrying in that direction, Knorr eagerly inquired what he was shooting at, and where the game had gone. His answer afterward furnished us not a little amusement: "There was a monstrous big deer deer there half an hour ago, and had I pulled trigger when I left the ship I should have killed him. But you see the powder is so cold that it won't burn, and it takes half an hour to touch it off;" and, to prove his theory, he poured a lot of it out on the dry snow, and applied a match. His singed whiskers bore ample evidence that his theory was not founded on fact.
THE ARCTIC FOXES.
The hill-side seemed to be alive with foxes; and, scenting the blood of the dead deer, they flocked in from all directions. These little animals were at first quite tame, but they had been cured of their familiarity by the lessons learned from the hunters, and had to be approached with adroitness. Of both the blue and white varieties I had living specimens in my cabin. One of them was the gentle creature, named Birdie, which I have already mentioned. The other one was purely white, and did not differ from Birdie in shape, although it was somewhat larger. The fur of the latter was much more coarse than the former. Their cry was exactly the same. But, while Birdie was very docile, and had grown quite domesticated, the other was thoroughly wild and untamable. Their respective weights were 4¼ and 7 pounds. The latter was full grown and unusually large.
These two varieties of the fox, notwithstanding their many points of resemblance, are evidently distinct species. I have not known them to mix, the coat of each preserving its distinctive hue, that of the blue fox varying merely in degree of shade, while the white changes only from pure white to a slightly yellowish tinge. The term "blue," as applied to the species to which Birdie belonged, is not wholly a misnomer, for, as seen upon the snow, its color gives something of that effect. The color is in truth a solid gray, the white and black being harmoniously blended, and not mixed as in the gray fox of Northern America. Their skins are much sought after by the trappers of Southern Greenland, where the animals are rare, for the fur commands a fabulous price in the Copenhagen market.
These foxes obtain a very precarious subsistence, and they may be seen at almost any time scampering over the ice, seeking the tracks of the bears, which they follow with the instinct of the jackal following the lion; not that they try their strength against these roving monarchs of the ice-fields, but, whenever the bear catches a seal, the little fox comes in for a share of the prey. Their food consists besides of an occasional ptarmigan, (the Arctic grouse,) and if quick in his spring he may be lucky enough to capture a hare. In the summer they congregate about the haunts of the birds, and luxuriate upon eggs. It is a popular belief in Greenland that they gather enormous stores of them for their winter provender, but I have never witnessed in them any such evidence of foresight.
THE POLAR BEAR.
ADVENTURES WITH BEARS.
The bears, wandering continually through the night, must needs have a hard struggle to live. During the summer, the seal, which furnish their only subsistence, crawl up on the ice, and are there easily caught; but in the winter they only resort to the cracks to breathe, and, in doing so, barely put their noses above the water, so that they are captured with difficulty. Driven to desperation by hunger, the bear will sometimes invade the haunts of men, in search of the food which their quick sense has detected. Our dogs, during the early winter, kept them from our vicinity; but, when the dogs were gone, several bears made their appearance. One of them came overland from the Fiord, and approached the store-house from behind the observatory, where Starr was engaged in reading the scale of the magnetometer. The heavy tread of the wild beast was heard through the stillness of the night, and, without much regard to the delicate organization of the instrument which he was observing, the young gentleman rushed for the door, upset the magnetometer, and had nearly lost his life in his precipitate haste to get over the dangerous ice-foot, while hurrying on board to give the alarm. We sallied out with our rifles; but while Starr was fleeing in one direction, the bear had been making off in the other. I had an adventure, about this time, which, like that of Starr's, shows that the Polar bear is not so ferocious as is generally supposed; indeed, they have never been known to attack man except when hotly pursued and driven to close quarters. Strolling one day along the shore, I was observing with much interest the effect of the recent spring tides upon the ice-foot, when, rounding a point of land, I suddenly found myself confronted in the faint moonlight by an enormous bear. He had just sprung down from the land-ice, and was meeting me at a full trot. We caught sight of each other at the same instant. Being without a rifle or other means of defence, I wheeled suddenly toward the ship, with, I fancy, much the same reflections about discretion and valor as those which crossed the mind of old Jack Falstaff when the Douglas set upon him; but finding, after a few lengthy strides, that I was not gobbled up, I looked back over my shoulder, when, as much to my surprise as gratification, I saw the bear tearing away toward the open water with a celerity which left no doubt as to the state of his mind. I suppose it would be difficult to determine which was the worst frightened—the bear or I.
OUR NEW ESQUIMAUX.
The additions to the Hans family furnished us as well a welcome source of amusement as of service. As I have said before, they were three in number, and bore respectively the names of Tcheitchenguak, Kablunet, and Angeit. This latter was the brother of Hans's wife, and his name signifies "The Catcher"—given to him, no doubt, in early infancy, from some peculiarity of disposition which he then manifested. And he was not inaptly named. The sailors took him into their favor, scrubbed and combed him, and dressed him in Christian clothing, and under their encouraging countenance he was soon found to be as full of tricks as a monkey, and as acquisitive as a magpie. He was the special torment of the steward and the cook. Driven almost to despair, and utterly defeated in every project of reform, the former finally set at the little heathen with a bundle of tracts and a catechism, while the latter declared his fixed resolve to scald him on the first favorable opportunity. "Very well, cook; but remember they hang for murder." "Den I kills him a leetle," was the ready answer.