Leaving the dangerous vicinity of the bergs, they afterwards kept more in-shore.
"What can yonder mound be ?" said Fred, pointing to an object that was faintly seen at a short distance off upon the bleak shore.
"An Esquimau hut, maybe," replied Grim.--"What think'ee, Meetuck ?" Meetuck shook his head and looked grave, but made no reply.
"Why don't you answer ?" said Bolton.

"But come along, we'll soon see." Meetuck now made various ineffectual attempts to dissuade the party from examining the mound, which turned out to be composed of stones heaped upon each other; but as all the conversation of which he was capable failed to enlighten his companions as to what the pile was, they instantly set to work to open a passage into the interior, believing that it might contain fresh provisions, as the Esquimaux were in the habit of thus preserving their superabundant food from bears and wolves.
In half-an-hour a hole, large enough for a man to creep through, was formed, and Fred entered, but started back with an exclamation of horror on finding himself in the presence of a human skeleton, which was seated on the ground in the centre of this strange tomb, with its head and arms resting on the knees.
"It must be an Esquimau grave," said Fred, as he retreated hastily; "that must be the reason why Meetuck tried to hinder us." "I should like to see it," said Grim, stooping and thrusting his head and shoulders into the hole.
"What have you got there ?" asked Bolton, as Grim drew back and held up something in his hand.
"Don't know exactly.

It's like a bit o' cloth." On examination the article was found to be a shred of coarse cloth, of a blue or black colour; and being an unexpected substance to meet with in such a place, Bolton turned round with it to Meetuck in the hope of obtaining some information.

But Meetuck was gone.

While the sailors were breaking into the grave, Meetuck had stood aloof with a displeased expression of countenance, as if he were angry at the rude desecration of a countryman's tomb; but the moment his eye fell on the shred of cloth an expression of mingled surprise and curiosity crossed his countenance, and, without uttering a word, he slipped noiselessly into the hole, from which he almost immediately issued bearing several articles in his hand.
These he held up to view, and with animated words and gesticulations explained that this was the grave of a white man, not of a native.
The articles he brought out were a pewter plate and a silver table-spoon.
"There's a name of some kind written here," said Bolton, as he carefully scrutinized the spoon.