r in a fox's skin."

"Well," answered Johnson, "now we've got him, we'll eat him."

Johnson was going to lift the fox on to his shoulders, when he cried
like Bell--"Well, I never!"

"What is it?" asked the doctor.

"Look, Mr. Clawbonny--look what the animal's got on its neck; it's
a collar, sure enough."

"A collar?" echoed the doctor, leaning over the animal. A half
worn-out collar encircled the fox's neck, and the doctor thought he
saw something engraved on it; he took it off and examined it.

"That bear is more than twelve years old, my friends," said the doctor;
"it's one of James Ross's foxes, and the collar has been round its
neck ever since 1848."

"Is it possible?" cried Bell.

"There isn't a doubt about it, and I'm sorry we've shot the poor animal.
During his wintering James Ross took a lot of white foxes in his traps,
and had brass collars put round their necks on which were engraved
the whereabouts of his ships, the _Enterprise_ and the _Investigator_,
and the store magazines. He hoped one of them might fall into the
hands of some of the men belonging to Franklin's expedition. The poor
animal might have saved the lives of the ship's crews, and it has
fallen under our balls."

"Well, we won't eat him," said Johnson, "especially as he's twelve
years old. Anyway, we'll keep his skin for curiosity sake." So saying
he lifted the animal on his shoulders, and they made their way to
the ship, guided by the stars; still their expedition was not quite
fruitless: they bagged several brace of ptarmigans. An hour before
they reached the _Forward_, a phenomenon occurred which excited the
astonishment of the doctor; it was a very rain of shooting stars;
they could be counted by thousands, like rockets in a display of
fireworks. They paled the light of the moon, and the admirable
spectacle lasted several hours. A like meteor was observed at
Greenland by the Moravian brothers in 1799. The doctor passed the
whole night watching it, till it ceased, at seven in the morning,
amidst the profound silence of the atmosphere.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE LAST LUMP OF COAL

It seemed certain that no bears were to be had; several seals were
killed during the days of the 4th, 5th, and 6th of November; then
the wind changed, and the thermometer went up several degrees; but
the snow-drifts began again with great violence. It became impossible
to leave the vessel, and the greatest precaution was needed to keep
out the damp. A