mouthful of fresh air before supper, and
on looking over the side he saw the whole pack of dogs lying in a circle
close to the ship, with Dumps comfortably asleep in the middle, and
using Poker's back for a pillow.

"Faix, but ye must be fond of the cowld, to lie there all night when
ye've got a palace on Store Island."

"Fond of society, rather," observed Captain Guy, who came on deck at the
moment, "the poor creatures cannot bear to be left alone. It is a
strange quality in dogs which I have often observed before."

"Have ye, Capting? Sure I thought it was all owin' to the bad manners
o' that baste Dumps, which is for iver leadin' the other dogs into
mischief."

"Supper's ready, sir," said Mivins, coming up the hatchway and touching
his cap.

"Look here, Mivins," said O'Riley, as the captain went below, "can ye
point out the mornin' star to me, lad?"

"The morning star?" said Mivins slowly, as he thrust his hands into the
breast of his jumper, and gazed upwards into the dark sky, where the
starry host blazed in Arctic majesty. "No, of course I can't. Why,
don't you know that there hain't no _morning_ star when it's _night_ all
round?"

"Faix ye're right. I niver thought o' that."

Mivins was evidently a little puffed up with a feeling of satisfaction
at the clever way in which he had got out of the difficulty without
displaying his ignorance of astronomy, and was even venturing, in the
pride of his heart, to make some speculative and startling assertions in
regard to the "'eavenly bodies" generally, when Buzzby put his head up
the hatchway.

"Hallo! messmates, wot's ado now? Here's the supper awaitin', and the
tea bilin' like blazes!"

Mivins instantly dived down below, as the sailors express it; and we may
remark, in passing, that the expression, in this particular case, was
not inappropriate, for Mivins, as we have elsewhere said, was remarkably
agile and supple, and gave beholders a sort of impression that he went
head-foremost at everything. O'Riley followed at a more reasonable
rate, and in a few minutes the crew of the _Dolphin_ were seated at
supper in the cabin, eating with as much zest, and laughing and chatting
as blithely as if they were floating calmly on their ocean home in
temperate climes. Sailors are proverbially lighthearted, and in their
moments of comfort and social enjoyment they easily forget their
troubles. The depression of spirits that followed the first
disappearance of