His voice died away again, just as Meetuck and O’Riley came running up. The instant the former saw how matters stood, he raised Fred in his powerful arms, set him on his feet, and shook him with such vigour that it seemed as if every bone in his body must be forced out of joint.
“What mane ye by that, ye blubber-bag?” cried the Irishman wrathfully, doubling his mittened fists and advancing in a threatening manner towards the Esquimaux; but, seeing that the savage paid not the least attention to him, and kept on shaking Fred violently with a good-humoured smile on his countenance, he wisely desisted from interfering.
In a few minutes Fred was able to stand and look about him with a stupid expression, and immediately the Esquimaux dragged, and pushed, and shook him along towards the snow-hut, into which he was finally thrust, though with some trouble, in consequence of the lowness of the tunnel. Here, by means of rubbing and chafing, with a little more buffeting, he was restored to some degree of heat; on seeing which Meetuck uttered a quiet grunt, and immediately set about preparing supper.
“I do believe I’ve been asleep,” said Fred, rising and stretching himself vigorously as the bright flame of a tin lamp shot forth and shed a yellow lustre on the white walls.
“Aslape is it! be me conscience an’ ye have just. Oh then, may I never indulge in the same sort o’ slumber!”
“Why so?” asked Fred in some surprise.
“You fell asleep on the ice, sir,” answered West, while he busied himself in spreading the tarpaulin and blanket-bags on the floor of the hut, “and you were very near frozen to death.”
“Frozen, musha! I’m not too shure that he’s melted yit!” said O’Riley, taking him by the arm and looking at him dubiously.
Fred laughed. “Oh yes; I’m melted now! But let’s have supper, else I shall faint for hunger. Did I sleep many hours?”
“You slept only five minutes,” said West, in some surprise at the question. “You were only gone about ten minutes altogether.”