In half-an-hour a hole, large enough for a man to creep through, was
formed, and Fred entered, but started back with an exclamation of horror
on finding himself in the presence of a human skeleton, which was seated
on the ground in the centre of this strange tomb, with its head and arms
resting on the knees.
"It must be an Esquimau grave," said Fred, as he retreated hastily;
"that must be the reason why Meetuck tried to hinder us."
"I should like to see it," said Grim, stooping and thrusting his head
and shoulders into the hole.
"What have you got there?" asked Bolton, as Grim drew back and held up
something in his hand.
"Don't know exactly. It's like a bit o' cloth." On examination the
article was found to be a shred of coarse cloth, of a blue or black
colour; and being an unexpected substance to meet with in such a place,
Bolton turned round with it to Meetuck in the hope of obtaining some
information. But Meetuck was gone. While the sailors were breaking into
the grave, Meetuck had stood aloof with a displeased expression of
countenance, as if he were angry at the rude desecration of a
countryman's tomb; but the moment his eye fell on the shred of cloth an
expression of mingled surprise and curiosity crossed his countenance,
and, without uttering a word, he slipped noiselessly into the hole, from
which he almost immediately issued bearing several articles in his hand.
These he held up to view, and with animated words and gesticulations
explained that this was the grave of a white man, not of a native.
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