tily; "come, the
sooner we get ready for self-defence the better."

"Yis, dat's de word," said the negro, increasing his grin for a moment
and then collapsing into sudden solemnity; "we nebber fights 'cep' in
self-defence--oh no--_nebber_!"

"They come not to attack," said Chingatok quietly. "Flatlanders never
come except in the night when men sleep. This is but one man."

"Perhaps he brings news!" exclaimed Benjy, with a sudden blaze of hope.

"Perhaps," echoed Alf, eagerly.

"It may be so," said Chingatok.

It was not long before the question was set at rest. The approaching
kayak came on at racing speed. Its occupant leaped on shore, and,
panting from recent exertion, delivered his thrilling message.

"Prisoners in Flatland," said the Captain at the council of war which
was immediately summoned, "but alive and well. Let us be thankful for
that good news, anyhow; but then, they ask us to help them, _quickly_.
That means danger."

"Yes, danger!" shouted Oolichuk, who, at the thought of Oblooria in the
hands of his foes, felt an almost irresistible desire to jump at some of
the youths of his own tribe, and kill them, by way of relieving his
feelings.

"Rest content, Oolichuk," cried Amalatok, with a horrible grinding of
his teeth; "we will tear out their hearts, and batter in their skulls,
and--"

"But," resumed the Captain hastily, "I do not think the danger so great.
All I would urge is that we should not delay going to their rescue--"

"Ho! huk! hi!" interrupted the whole band of assembled warriors, leaping
up and going through sundry suggestive actions with knives and spears.

"Does my father wish me to get the kayaks ready?" asked Chingatok, who,
as usual, retained his composure.

"Do, my son. Let plenty of blubber be stowed in them, and war-spears,"
said the old chief; "we will start at once."

The promptitude with which these northern Eskimos prepared for war might
be a lesson to the men of civilised communities. We have already said
that the sun had by that time begun to set for a few hours each day.
Before it had reached the deepest twilight that night a hundred and
fifty picked warriors, with their kayaks and war material, were skimming
over the sea, led by the fiery old chief and his gigantic but
peace-loving son. Of course Captain Vane, Benjy, Alphonse Vandervell,
and Butterface accompanied them, but none of the women were allowed to
go, as it was expected that the war would be a blo