It was the first time that the settlers had set foot on the right bank of the Mercy, and ventured into the midst of those gigantic and superb coniferae now sprinkled over with snow.

But they had not gone half a mile when from a thicket a whole family of quadrupeds, who had made a home there, disturbed by Top, rushed forth into the open country.

“Ah!  I should say those are foxes!” cried Herbert, when he saw the troop rapidly decamping.

They were foxes, but of a very large size, who uttered a sort of barking, at which Top seemed to be very much astonished, for he stopped short in the chase, and gave the swift animals time to disappear.

The dog had reason to be surprised, as he did not know Natural History.  But, by their barking, these foxes, with reddish-gray hair, black tails terminating in a white tuft, had betrayed their origin.  So Herbert was able, without hesitating, to give them their real name of “Arctic foxes.”  They are frequently met with in Chile, in the Falkland Islands, and in all parts of America traversed by the thirtieth and fortieth parallels.  Herbert much regretted that Top had not been able to catch one of these carnivora.

“Are they good to eat?” asked Pencroft, who only regarded the representatives of the fauna in the island from one special point of view.

“No,” replied Herbert; “but zoologists have not yet found out if the eye of these foxes is diurnal or nocturnal, or whether it is correct to class them in the genus dog, properly so called.”

Harding could not help smiling on hearing the lad’s reflection, which showed a thoughtful mind.  As to the sailor, from the moment when he found that the foxes were not classed in the genus eatable, they were nothing to him.  However, when a poultry-yard was established at Granite House, he observed that it would be best to take some precautions against a probable visit from these four-legged plunderers, and no one disputed this.

After having turned the point, the settlers saw a long beach washed by the open sea.  It was then eight o’clock in the morning.  The sky was very clear, as it often is after prolonged cold; but warmed by their walk, neither Harding nor his companions felt the sharpness of the atmosphere too severely.  Besides there was no wind, which made it much more bearable.  A brilliant sun, but without any calorific action, was just issuing from the ocean.  The sea was as tranquil and blue as that of a Mediterranean gulf, when the sky is clear.  Claw Cape, bent in the form of a yataghan, tapered away nearly four miles to the southeast.  To the left the edge of the marsh was abruptly ended by a little point.  Certainly, in this part of Union Bay, which nothing sheltered from the open sea, not even a sandbank, ships beaten by the east winds would have found no shelter.  They perceived by the tranquillity of the sea, in which no shallows troubled the waters, by its uniform color, which was stained by no yellow shades, by the