ll went into it, overcome with weariness and discouragement.
Jean Cornbutte suffered so much that he could not walk, and Andre
Vasling so skilfully aggravated his gloomy feelings, that he
forced from him a promise not to pursue his search farther in
those frightful solitudes. Penellan did not know which saint to
invoke. He thought it unworthy and craven to give up his
companions for reasons which had little weight, and tried to
upset them; but in vain.

Meanwhile, though it had been decided to return, rest had become
so necessary that for three days no preparations for departure
were made.

On the 4th of November, Jean Cornbutte began to bury on a point
of the coast the provisions for which there was no use. A stake
indicated the place of the deposit, in the improbable event that
new explorations should be made in that direction. Every day
since they had set out similar deposits had been made, so that
they were assured of ample sustenance on the return, without the
trouble of carrying them on the sledge.

The departure was fixed for ten in the morning, on the 5th. The
most profound sadness filled the little band. Marie with
difficulty restrained her tears, when she saw her uncle so
completely discouraged. So many useless sufferings! so much
labour lost! Penellan himself became ferocious in his ill-humour;
he consigned everybody to the nether regions, and did not cease
to wax angry at the weakness and cowardice of his comrades, who
were more timid and tired, he said, than Marie, who would have
gone to the end of the world without complaint.

Andre Vasling could not disguise the pleasure which this decision
gave him. He showed himself more attentive than ever to the young
girl, to whom he even held out hopes that a new search should be
made when the winter was over; knowing well that it would then be
too late!

CHAPTER X.

BURIED ALIVE.

The evening before the departure, just as they were about to take
supper, Penellan was breaking up some empty casks for firewood,
when he was suddenly suffocated by a thick smoke. At the same
instant the snow-house was shaken as if by an earthquake. The
party uttered a cry of terror, and Penellan hurried outside.

It was entirely dark. A frightful tempest--for it was not a
thaw--was raging, whirlwinds of snow careered around, and it was
so exceedingly cold that the helmsman felt his hands rapidly
freezing. He was obliged to go in again, after rubbing himself
violentl