CHAPTER III. 
HIE FIRE-CLOTHED BAG — THE WRAITH — COOKERY—A RESPITE — 
THE COMING DAWN — THE TRUST-PROSPECTS — ARGUMENT — 
COLORED SKIES—STOVE-FITTING. 
“ February 6, Tuesday.—At ten, last evening, not 
long after my journal-record, I heard voices outside. 
Petersen and Hans had returned. I met them silently 
on deck, and heard from poor Petersen how he had 
broken down. The snows had been increasing since 
my own last trial,—his strength had left him; the 
scurvy had entered his chest; in a word, he had failed, 
and Hans could not do the errand alone. Bad enough! 
“ But to-day our fortunes are on the mend. It has 
been beautifully clear; and for the first time a shade 
of bronzed yellow has warmed our noonday horizon, 
with a gentle violet running into rich brown clopds, 
totally unlike our night skies. Hans and I started for 
a hunt,—one to explore new grounds, the other to 
follow tracks in the recent snow. The result was two 
rabbits, the first-fruits of the coming light, and the 
promise of more in the numerous feeding-traces among 
the rocks of Charlotte Wood Fiord. The meat, our 
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