It still snowed violently, the flakes being large, and eddying round the
angles of the rocks, in flurries so violent as, at moments, to confound
all the senses of the young man. He was resolute, however, and bent on an
object of humanity, as well as of good fellowship. Living or dead, Daggett
must be somewhere on his present level; and he began to grope his way
among the fragments of rock, eager and solicitous. The roaring of the wind
almost prevented his hearing other sounds; though once or twice he heard;
or fancied that he heard, the shouts of Stimson from above. Suddenly, the
wind ceased, the snow lessened in quantity, soon clearing away
altogether; and the rays of the sun--and this in the dog-days of that
region, be it remembered--fell bright and genial on the glittering scene.
At the next instant, the eyes of Roswell fell on the object of his search.

Daggett had been carried over the narrow shelf on which Stimson landed, in
consequence of his having no support, or any means of arresting his
momentum. He did thrust forward his lance, or leaping-staff; but its point
met nothing but air. The fall, however, was by no means perpendicular,
several projections of the rocks helping to lessen it; though it is
probable that the life of the unfortunate sealer was saved altogether by
means of the lance. This was beneath him as he made his final descent, and
he slid along it the whole length, canting him into a spot where was the
only piece of stinted vegetation that was to be seen for a considerable
distance. In consequence of coming down on a tolerably thick bunch of
furze, the fall was essentially broken.

When Roswell reached his unfortunate companion, the latter was perfectly
sensible, and quite cool.

"God be thanked that you have found me, Gar'ner," he said; "at one time I
had given it up."