ON THE ROOF OF THE WORLD 35 



across the stillness a light sound, the breaking 

 of thin ice, the tinkle of splashings frozen as 

 they fell. The great white bear understood 

 that sound. He had been waiting for it. 

 The seals were breaking their way up into 

 their air-holes to breathe those curious holes 

 which form here and there in the ice-fields 

 over moving water, as if the ocean itself had 

 need of keeping in touch with upper air for its 

 immeasurable breathing. At a great pace, 

 but noiselessly as a drifting wraith of snow, 

 the bear went towards the sound. Then 

 suddenly he dropped flat and seemed to 

 vanish. In reality he was crawling, crawling 

 steadily towards the place of the air-holes. 

 But so smooth was his movement, so furtive, 

 and so fitted to every irregularity of the icy 

 surface, that if the eye onoe lost him it might 

 strive in vain to pick him up again. 



Nearer, nearer he crept, till at last, lying 

 motionless with his lean muzzle just over the 

 crest of the ice-ridge, he could make out the 

 dark shapes of the seals, vague as shadows, 

 emerging for a few moments to sprawl upon 

 the edge of the ice. Every few seconds one 

 would slip into the water again, while another 

 would awkwardly scramble forth. In that 

 phenomenal cold it was necessary for them to 

 take heed to the air-holes, lest these should 



