"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" cried the doctor.
Hatteras, with folded arms, was gazing calmly at the corpse of his foe.
"It's now my turn," said Johnson; "it's very well to have killed it, but there is no need of waiting till it's frozen as hard as a stone, when teeth and knife will be useless for attacking it."
Johnson began by skinning the bear, which was nearly as large as an ox; it was nine feet long and six feet in circumference; two huge tusks, three inches long, issued from his mouth. On opening him, nothing was found in his stomach but water; the bear had evidently eaten nothing for a long time; nevertheless, he was very fat, and he weighed more than fifteen hundred pounds; he was divided into four quarters, each one of which gave two hundred pounds of meat, and the hunters carried this flesh back to the snow-house, without forgetting the animal's heart, which went on beating for three hours.
The others wanted to eat the meat raw, but the doctor bade them wait until it should be roasted. On entering the house he was struck by the great cold within it; he went up to the stove and found the fire out; the occupations as well as the excitement of the morning had made Johnson forget his customary duty. The doctor tried to rekindle the fire, but there was not even a spark lingering amid the cold ashes.
"Well, we must have patience!" he said to himself. He then went to the sledge to get some tinder, and asked Johnson for his steel, telling him that the fire had gone out. Johnson answered that it was his fault, and he put his hand in his pocket, where he usually kept it; he was surprised not to find it there. He felt in his other pockets with the same success; he went into the snow-house and examined carefully the covering under which he had slept in the previous night, but he could not find it.
"Well?" shouted the doctor.
Johnson came back, and stared at his companions.
"And haven't you got the steel, Dr. Clawbonny?" he asked.
"No, Johnson."