Soon after, the dogs were harnessed, the sledges packed, and, with many protestations of good-will on both sides, the parties separated.

A few cracks of their long whips, a few answering howls from the dogs, and the Esquimaux were off and out of sight, leaving the _Dolphin_ in her former solitude under the shadow of the frowning cliffs.
"Fetch me the telescope, Mivins," said the captain, calling down the hatchway.
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the steward.
"Where's my hatchet ?" cried Peter Grim, striding about the deck and looking into every corner in search of his missing implement.

"It's my best one, and I can't get on without it, nohow." The captain bit his lip, for he knew full well the cause of its absence.
"Please, sir," said the steward, coming on deck with a very perturbed expression of countenance, "the--the--a--" "Speak out, man! what's the matter with you ?" "The glass ain't nowhere to be seen, sir." "Turn up all hands!" shouted the captain, jumping down the hatchway.
"Arm the men, Mr.Bolton, and order the largest sledge to be got ready instantly.

This will never do.

Harness the whole team." Instantly the _Dolphin's_ deck was a scene of bustling activity.