"It's a grave," said Hatteras.
It was the body of a sailor about thirty years old, in a perfect state of preservation; he wore the usual dress of Arctic sailors; the doctor could not say how long he had been dead.
After this, Bell found another corpse, that of a man of fifty, exhibiting traces of the sufferings that had killed him.
"They were never buried," cried the doctor; "these poor men were surprised by death as we find them."
"You are right, Doctor," said Bell.
"Go on, go on!" said Hatteras.
Bell hardly dared. Who could say how many corpses lay hidden here?
"They were the victims of just such an accident as we nearly perished by," said the doctor; "their snow-house fell in. Let us see if one may not be breathing yet!"
The place was rapidly cleared away, and Bell brought up a third body, that of a man of forty; he looked less like a corpse than the others; the doctor bent over him and thought he saw some signs of life.