"What do you mean, Mr. Clawbonny?" asked the carpenter.
"Why, that we were deceived in the size as well as in the distance. Refraction made us fancy we saw a bear when it was only a fox. It is a mistake that has happened more than once to hunters in the Arctic regions."
"Well, we'll eat him anyhow, whether it is a bear or fox. Let us carry him off."
But just as Johnson was about to throw him over his shoulders, he stopped short and said:
"Here's something stranger still!"
"What's that?" asked the Doctor.
"Look here, Mr. Clawbonny. The beast has a collar round his neck."
"A collar!" exclaimed the Doctor, bending down to examine the animal.
Sure enough there was a brass collar half worn away round his neck, peeping through his white fur. The Doctor fancied he could perceive an inscription on it, and pulled it off to make a closer inspection.
"What does it say?" asked Johnson.
"It says that this fox is at least twelve years old, a fox caught by James Ross in 1848."
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Bell.
"There is not the least doubt of it. I am only sorry we killed the poor beast. While James Ross was wintering here, he snared a great quantity of white foxes, and had brass collars riveted on their necks, with the name and whereabouts of his two ships, the Enterprise and Investigator, inscribed on it, and also where the provision depots were to be found. These animals roam great distances in quest of food, and Ross's idea was that some of them might fall into the hands of Franklin's party. And now, instead of that, we have shot him with our balls, when he might have saved the lives of two ships' crews."
"We won't eat him, at any rate," said Johnson; "and besides, he is twelve years old. We'll keep his skin though, as a memento of this curious adventure."
Throwing the dead fox across his shoulder, and followed by his two companions, Johnson began to retrace his steps towards the vessel, guided by the stars. Their expedition had not been altogether unsuccessful, for they managed dur-
