hands would work with a silent energy which spoke volumes regarding the critical posture of our affairs. Our satisfaction and my gratitude may be imagined when we at last reached the spot we called home, and found hot coffee, besides all the comforts of Innuit life, awaiting us at the hands of Suzhi.
Thursday, September 12th, was the thirty-fifth day from the ship and the seventh at the sixteenth encampment. On that morning I determined no longer to delay, but at once to return to the George Henry (if she had not sailed), going down by the Kingaite side of Frobisher Bay. Accordingly, at 10 a.m. we all started on our homeward journey. The tide at starting was just sufficient to float us over the rocks, and we had a breeze to help us, but the weather was unfavourable. In some places we could see a snow-storm raging, and every sign of winter was now perceptible. Our trip that day was along the Kingaite coast, and after a few hours' sail we reached an island I have named Tweroong,[1] on which Miner's party had encamped, where we also pitched our tents for the night, making our seventeenth encampment.
The next day (September 13th) we were confined to our tents on a small rocky island by a heavy gale and a furious sea; but on the 14th the weather became more moderate, and we resumed our boat-voyage, crossing over from the island to Cape Rammelsberg,[2] on the Kingaite side, that I might examine it.
While we were there, a fine-looking tuktoo was discovered lying on one of the little plains. Kooperneung at once went off with his double-barrelled gun to secure it. I could see the royal antlers of the noble animal as it quietly reposed, unconscious of its fate. As Kooperneung approached it scented a foe, started up, and away it went at full speed; but too late. One report—another. The tuktoo was a prize, having rushed on its fate in fleeing towards a rocky pass where the cunning Innuit had secreted himself.
