come naturalists, pushed
on and reached a sort of valley, fully exposed, at the bottom of which
a river, nearly free of ice, was flowing; its southern exposure had
brought forth a certain amount of vegetation. The earth showed a
strong desire to grow fertile; with a few inches of rich soil it would
have produced a good deal. The doctor called their attention to these
indications.

"See," he said, "a few hardy colonists might settle in this ravine.
With industry and perseverance they could do a great deal; not as much
as is seen in the temperate zones, but a respectable show. If I am not
mistaken, there are some four-footed animals! They know the good
spots."

"They are Arctic hares," shouted Altamont, cocking his gun.

"Wait a moment," cried the doctor,--"wait a moment, you hasty fellow.
They don't think of running away! See, they'll come to us!"

[Illustration]

And, in fact, three or four young hares, springing about in the heath
and young moss, ran boldly towards the three men; they were so cunning
that even Altamont was softened.

Soon they were between the doctor's legs; he caressed them with his
hand, saying,--

"Why shoot these little animals which come to be petted? We need not
kill them."

"You are right, Doctor," answered Hatteras; "we'll let them live."

"And these ptarmigan, too, which are flying towards us!" cried
Altamont; "and these long-legged water-fowl!"

A whole flock of birds passed over the hunters, not suspecting the
peril from which the doctor's presence saved them. Even Duke was
compelled to admire them.

They were a curious and touching sight, flying about without fear,
resting on Clawbonny's shoulders, lying at his feet, offering
themselves to his caresses, seeming to do their best to welcome their
new guests; they called one another joyously, flying from the most
distant points; the doctor seemed to be a real bird-charmer. The
hunters continued their march up the moist banks of the brook,
followed by the familiar band, and turning from the valley they
perceived a troop of eight or ten reindeer browsing on a few lichens
half buried beneath the snow; they were graceful, quiet animals, with
their branching antlers, which the female carried as well as the male;
their wool-like fur was already losing its winter whiteness in favor
of the summer brown and gray; they seemed no more timid than the hares
and birds of the country. Such were the relations of the first men to
the first anim