Lucile excitedly, as her slender white
hand tugged away at a bundle which had been thrust into the prow of the
boat.

"It's like going through your stocking Christmas morning!" laughed
Marian, for the moment quite forgetting their dilemma in the excitement
of discovery.

Marian drew forth a large sealskin sack. It was heavy and was tied
tightly at the mouth. It gave forth a strange plop as she turned it
over.

"Some sort of liquid," she announced. "Probably seal-oil."

With difficulty she untied the strings and opened the sack. Then
quickly she pinched her nose. "Whew! What a smell!"

"Let's see," said Lucile, dropping the bundle she had just dragged
forth. "Yes, it's seal-oil. That's a good find."

"Why? We can't use that stuff. It must be at least a year old and
rotten. Talk about limburger cheese! Whew!"

She quickly tied the sack up again.

"Well," said Lucile, "we probably won't want to use it for food, but
white people as fine-blooded as we have been compelled to. It's better
than starving. But I was thinking about a fire. If we ever find any
fuel where we're going--wherever that is--" she smiled a trifle
uncertainly, "we'll need some oil to help start the fire if the fuel is
damp, as most driftwood is."

"Driftwood? When do we go ashore?" laughed Marian.

"It's well to be prepared for anything," smiled Lucile. "Let's see
what's in my prize package."

Marian leaned forward eagerly while Lucile untied a leather thong.

"Deerskins!" she cried exultantly. "Four of them! Enough for a
sleeping-bag! And wrapped in a sealskin square which will protect us
from the damp. I believe," she said thoughtfully, "that this native
must have been planning a little trip up the coast, and if he was there
must be other useful things in our ark, for an Eskimo never ventures
far without being prepared for every emergency."

Once more they bent over the kiak, each one to search her corner.

"Another sack!" cried Lucile; "a hunting sack, with matches wrapped in
oiled sealskin, a butcher knife, some skin-rope, a pair of boola balls
with the strings, a fish line with hook and sinker; two big needles
stuck in a bit of canvas. That's about all, but it's a lot."

"I've found a little circular wooden box," said Marian. "More food, I
guess; probably the kind you can't eat without gagging. No," she
cried, after a moment, "here's a big square of tea--the Russian kind,
all pressed hard into a brick. There