274 WHALING AND BEAR-HUNTING 



thinking now which is the weak point ; in a day or two he will 

 attack it. I am very sorry for him, now he is quiet and a little 

 red shows where he has been scratched. I can imagine, like 

 the old Scottish fighting Admiral Barton, that he murmurs : 



" A little I'm hurt but not yet slain, 

 I'll but lie down and bluid a while 

 And then I'll rise and ficht again." 



A mist came over the scene this afternoon, with light shining 

 through, but enough to stop us making progress, even should 



the ice-pack allow us. So we 

 moor fore and aft alongside a 

 small floe and set to work with 

 pails to fill our fresh-water tanks 

 from the three blue pools on it, 

 pale blue flushed with lilac, 

 cobalt round the rim of each. 

 We stroll on the hard snow, 

 stuff like coarse salt laid down 

 on a blue translucent carpet, and 

 play the pipes, and play with 

 Chee Chee, the ship's pet. The 

 only game she does not like is 

 being lassoed. Finding a mit 

 hidden in the snow suits her, 

 and a great many other games 

 taught by various instructors. 



Our youngest Spanish senor 

 ventured to row away from the 

 ship a little this morning, and 

 this the youngest Don Luis 

 Herrero told me a fine yarn 

 about how he had come on a 

 splendid saddle - seal unex- 

 pectedly that is a dappled 

 brown and white kind we have not got as yet ; he described 

 it vividly as seen from five yards. Gisbert at lunch told me 

 it was a make-up, therefore the writer tried to pull his leg 

 in return by illustrating his pretended encounter with the 

 famous seal as per marginal notes. (See p. 272-273.) 



