Our savage guests remained with us a few days, and then set out for their homes, declaring their intention to come speedily back and bring more of the tribe and dogs. I drove out with them a few miles, and we parted on the ice. When about a mile away, I observed Myouk jump from the sledge to pick up something which he had dropped. No doubt rejoiced to be rid of this extra load on his rickety sledge, Tattarat whipped up his team, and the last I saw of poor Myouk he was running on, struggling manfully to catch up; but, notwithstanding all his efforts, he was falling behind, and it is not unlikely that he was suffered to walk all the way to Iteplik.
AN ARCTIC MICAWBER. This Myouk was the same droll creature that he was when I knew him formerly,—a sort of Arctic Micawber, everlastingly waiting for something to turn up which never did turn up; and, with much cheerfulness, hoping for good luck which never came. He recited to me all of his hardships and misfortunes. His sledge was all broken to pieces, and he could not mend it; his dogs were all dead except the one he sold to me; he had stuck his harpoon into a walrus, and the line had parted, and the walrus carried it away; he had lost his lance, and altogether his affairs were in a very lamentable state. His family were in great distress, as he could not catch any thing for them to eat, and so they had gone to Tattarat's hut. Tattarat was a poor hunter, and he made a terrible grimace, which told how great was his contempt for that doughty individual. So now he proposed, as soon as he got home, to try Kalutunah. To be sure, Kalutunah's establishment was pretty well filled already, there being not less than three families quartered there; but still, he thought there was room for one
