emotion to appear, and a close observer might have discovered a humane heart beating under that iron exterior.
The thermometer fell still lower; the deck was quite deserted except by the Esquimaux dogs, who kept howling piteously. The 8th of December arrived, and the Doctor went out as usual to look at the thermometer. The mercury was frozen—completely frozen!
"Forty-four degrees below zero!" he exclaimed, in dismay. Yes! and on this very day the last atom of coal was thrown into the stove.
CHAPTER XXVI
CHRISTMAS
For a moment despair gained the upper hand, and death seemed staring the unhappy crew in the face—death from cold. The fire got lower each moment, and the effect was soon felt on the temperature of the room. Johnson went to fetch some of his new combustible, and filled the stove with it, adding tow impregnated with frozen oil, which speedily gave out abundant heat. True, the stench was unbearable, and the boatswain was sufficiently convinced that his substitute for coal would find no favor in the middle-class houses of Liverpool. But what was to be done? It was this fat or nothing.
"And yet," said Johnson, "this stinking stuff may bring us some good after all."
"How's that?" asked the carpenter.
"It will be sure to attract the bears. They will think it a most savory odor."
"Well, but I don't see what we want with bears," replied Bell.
"Friend Bell," returned Johnson, "we can't reckon on any more seals; they have taken their departure for a long time, and if the bears don't furnish their share of combustible material, I don't see what is to become of us."
"You are right, Johnson. We are in a perilous situation—it is frightful to think of it. Only suppose our stock of this fat coming to an end! I see no way, I must confess!"
"Except one."
"And what is that?" asked Bell.
