PTARMIGAN. 
315 
We had killed nothing as yet, except a few eider 
ducks, and one or two ice-birds—the most graceful 
winged creatures I have ever seen, with immensely 
long pinions, and plumage of spotless white. Although 
enormous seals from time to time used to lift their wise 
grave faces above the water, with the dignity of sea-gods, 
none of us had any very great inclination to slay such 
rational human-looking creatures, and—with the ex¬ 
ception of these and a white fish, a species of whale— 
no other living thing had been visible. On the very 
morning, however, of the day settled for our departure, 
Fitz came down from a solitary expedition up a hill 
with the news of his having seen some ptarmigan. 
Having taken a rifle with him instead of a gun, he had 
not been able to shoot more than one, which he had 
brought back in triumph as proof of the authenticity 
of his report ; but the extreme juvenility of his 
victim hardly permitted us to identify the species; the 
hole made by the bullet being about the same size as 
the bird. Nevertheless, the slightest prospect of ob¬ 
taining a supply of fresh meat, was enough to reconcile 
us to any amount of exertion; therefore, on the strength 
of the pinch of feathers which Fitz kept gravely assuring 
