198 LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. [XL 



to any amount of exertion ; therefore, on the strength of the 

 pinch of feathers which Fitz kept gravely assuring us was the 

 game he had bagged, we seized our guns — I took a rifle in 

 case of a possible bear — and set our faces toward the hill. 

 After a good hour's pull we reached the should er which Fitz 

 had indicated as the scene of his exploit, but a patch of snow 

 was the only thing visible. Suddenly I saw Sigurdr, who 

 was remarkably sharp-sighted, run rapidly in the direction 

 of the snow, and bringing his gun up to his shoulder, point 

 it — as well as I could distinguish — at his own toes. When 

 the smoke of the shot had cleared away, I fully expected to 

 see the Icelander prostrate ; but he was already reloading 

 with the greatest expedition. Determined to prevent the 

 repetition of so dreadful an attempt at self-destruction, I 

 rushed to the spot. Guess then my relief when the bloody 

 body of a ptarmigan — driven by so point blank a discharge 

 a couple of feet into the snow — was triumphantly dragged 

 forth by instalments from the sepulchre which it had received 

 contemporaneously with its death wound, and thus happily 

 accounted for Sigurdr's extraordinary proceeding. At the 

 same moment I perceived two or three dozen other birds, 

 brothers and sisters of the defunct, calmly strutting about 

 under our very noses. By this time Sigurdr had reloaded, 

 Fitz had also come up, and a regular massacre began. Re- 

 tiring to a distance — for it was the case of Mahomet and the 

 mountain reversed — the two sportsmen opened fire upon the 

 innocent community, and in a few seconds sixteen corpses 

 strewed the ground. 



Scarcely had they finished off the last survivor of this 

 Niobean family, when we were startled by the distant re- 

 port of a volley of musketry, fired in the direction of the 

 schooner. I could not conceive what had happened. Had 

 a mutiny taken place ? Was Mr. Wyse re-enacting, with a 

 less docile ship's company, the pistol scene on board the 

 Glasgow steamer? Again resounded the rattle of the firing. 

 At all events, there was no time to be lost in getting back ; 

 so, tying up the birds in three bundles, we flun^ ourselves 



