“Dance, then, wid me,” cried the Irishman, suiting his action to the word.  “I’ve a mortial fear o’ bein’ bit wid the frost—­for it’s no joke, let me tell you.  Didn’t I see a whole ship’s crew wance that wos wrecked in the Gulf o’ St. Lawrence about the beginnin’ o’ winter, and before they got to a part o’ the coast where there was a house belongin’ to the fur-traders, ivery man-jack o’ them was frost-bit more or less, they wor.  Wan lost a thumb, and another the jint of a finger or two, and most o’ them had two or three toes off, an’ there wos wan poor fellow who lost the front half o’ wan fut an’ the heel o’ the other, an’ two inches o’ the bone was stickin’ out.  Sure it’s truth I’m tellin’ ye, for I seed it wid me own two eyes, I did.”

The earnest tones in which the last words were spoken convinced his comrades that O’Riley was telling the truth, so having a decided objection to be placed in similar circumstances, they danced and beat each other until they were quite in a glow.

“Why, what are you at there, Meetuck?” exclaimed Fred, pausing.

“Igloe make,” replied the Esquimau.

“Ig—­what?” inquired O’Riley.

“Oh, I see!” shouted Fred, “he’s going to make a snow-hut—­igloes they call them here.  Capital!—­I never thought of that.  Come along; let’s help him!”

Meetuck was indeed about to erect one of those curious dwellings of snow in which, for the greater part of the year, his primitive countrymen dwell.  He had no taste for star-spangled bed-curtains, when solid walls, whiter than the purest dimity, were to be had for nothing.  His first operation in the erection of this hut was to mark out a circle of about seven feet diameter.  From the inside of this circle the snow was cut by means of a long knife in the form of slabs nearly a foot thick, and from two to three feet long, having a slight convexity on the outside.  These slabs were then so cut and arranged that, when they were piled upon each other round the margin of the circle, they formed a dome-shaped structure like a bee-hive, which was six feet high inside, and remarkably solid.  The slabs were cemented together with loose snow, and every accidental chink or crevice filled up with the same material.  The natives sometimes insert a block of clear ice in the roof for a window, but this was dispensed with on the present occasion—­first, because there was no light to let in; and, secondly, because if there had been, they didn’t want it.

The building of the hut occupied only an hour, for the hunters were cold and hungry, and in their case the old proverb might have been paraphrased, “No work, no supper.”  A hole, just large enough to permit a man to creep through on his hands and knees, formed the door of this bee-hive.  Attached to this hole, and cemented to it, was a low tunnel of about four feet in length.  When finished, both ends of the tunnel were closed up with slabs of hard snow, which served the purpose of double doors, and effectually kept out the cold.