distance off upon the bleak shore.

"An Esquimau hut, maybe," replied Grim.--"What think'ee, Meetuck?"

Meetuck shook his head and looked grave, but made no reply.

"Why don't you answer?" said Bolton. "But come along, we'll soon see."

Meetuck now made various ineffectual attempts to dissuade the party from
examining the mound, which turned out to be composed of stones heaped
upon each other; but as all the conversation of which he was capable
failed to enlighten his companions as to what the pile was, they
instantly set to work to open a passage into the interior, believing
that it might contain fresh provisions, as the Esquimaux were in the
habit of thus preserving their superabundant food from bears and wolves.
In half-an-hour a hole, large enough for a man to creep through, was
formed, and Fred entered, but started back with an exclamation of horror
on finding himself in the presence of a human skeleton, which was seated
on the ground in the centre of this strange tomb, with its head and arms
resting on the knees.

"It must be an Esquimau grave," said Fred, as he retreated hastily;
"that must be the reason why Meetuck tried to hinder us."

"I should like to see it," said Grim, stooping and thrusting his head
and shoulders into the hole.

"What have you got there?" asked Bolton, as Grim drew back and held up
something in his hand.

"Don't know exactly. It's like a bit o' cloth." On examination the
article was found to be a shred of coarse cloth, of a blue or black
colour; and being an unexpected substance to meet with in such a place,
Bolton turned round with it to Meetuck in the hope of obtaining some
information. But Meetuck was gone. While the sailors were breaking into
the grave, Meetuck had stood aloof with a displeased expression of
countenance, as if he were angry at the rude desecration of a
countryman's tomb; but the moment his eye fell on the shred of cloth an
expression of mingled surprise and curiosity crossed his countenance,
and, without uttering a word, he slipped noiselessly into the hole, from
which he almost immediately issued bearing several articles in his hand.
These he held up to view, and with animated words and gesticulations
explained that this was the grave of a white man, not of a native.

The articles he brought out were a pewter plate and a silver
table-spoon.

"There's a name of some kind written here," said Bolton, as he carefully
scrutinized the spoon. "Look here, Fred, you