THE FRAULEIN FLAISCIIEE. 
291 
of Karkamoot. Just then a familiar sound came to us 
over the water. We had often listened to the screech¬ 
ing of the gulls or the bark of the fox, and mistaken it 
for the “Iluk” of the Esquimaux; but this had about 
it an inflection not to be mistaken, for it died away in 
the familiar cadence of a “halloo.” 
“ Listen, Petersen! oars, men!” “ What is it ?”•— 
and he listened quietly at first, and then, trembling, 
said, in a half whisper, “ Dannemarkers !” 
I remember this, the first tone of Christian voice 
which had greeted our return to the world. How we 
all stood up and peered into the distant nooks; and 
how the cry came to us again, just as, having seen 
nothing, we were doubting whether the whole was 
not a dream; and then how, with long sweeps, the 
■white ash cracking under the spring of the rowers, 
we stood for the cape that the sound proceeded 
from, and how nervously we scanned the green 
spots which our experience, grown now into in¬ 
stinct, told us would be the likely camping-ground of 
wayfarers. 
By-and-by—for we must have been pulling a good 
half hour—the single mast of a small shallop showed 
itself; and Petersen, -who had been very quiet and 
grave, burst out into an .incoherent fit of crying, only 
relieved by broken exclamations of mingled Danish 
and English. “’Tis the Upemavik oil-boat! The 
Fraulein Flaisclicr! Carlie Mossyn, the assistant cooper, 
must be on his road to Kingatok for blubber. The 
Mariane (the one annual ship) has come, and Carlie 
