If he could have begun to descend, he would have done so now; but he dared not attempt it, for not only was the bear too close, but the steepness of the ascent had brought it right beneath him.

And now, for the first time, the great animal seemed to see him, and increased its pace to such an extent that Steve felt all was over. He looked up, and the way was steeper, his only course being over an ice-covered face of rock far out of the perpendicular, but so smooth that the only way up was by taking advantage of the cracks and rifts which seamed it like a net.

"My last chance," thought Steve, whose mind in this terrible emergency had suddenly grown clearer. He gave one glance below him, to see that the bear was not many yards away, and he could even see the gleam of its little, reddish-looking eyes. Then he buckled to at the climb, and got up foot by foot at a rate which surprised him. But the bear was as alert. When the lad was twenty or thirty feet up the animal had nearly reached the foot, and by the time the pursued had mounted another twenty feet the great brute was close up and raised itself on its hind quarters to mount.

A cry that he could not suppress rose to Steve's lips, for, to his despair, his last hope died away. He had climbed on desperately, finding the ice-covered rock grow steeper and steeper, till, as he raised one foot to take the next step, there was no crevice or crack to give it hold, and it glided over the ice again and again. He reached to the left, but there was no handhold there. To the right it was the same, and—horror of horrors!—he knew now that he had clambered to a point which it was beyond human power to exceed, and this at a time when the bear was five-and-twenty feet below, and mounting fast.

If he could reach that ledge just above him with his hands, he might draw himself up; but could he? There was only one way, by making a leap, and this with so little foothold. But a low growl decided him, and, pulling himself together, he stooped, and then sprang up with all his might.

Hurrah! He reached the ledge with his crooked hands, and tried hard to drive his toes into the ice as he hung. But only for a few seconds. The sharp edge of the ledge was of ice of the most glassy nature, and Steve closed his eyes, for he had done all that mortal could do; his fingers glided over the angle to which they had for a moment or two clung, and then, as he drew himself up, he was falling like a ball, and as swift right on to the climbing bear.



CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

WATTY'S FEAST.

Watty Links was undoubtedly great in a certain capacity. He resembled a Dutch galliot, especially built to contain the largest quantity of merchandise in the smallest tonnage. Of course Watty was not built to receive merchandise, but he was built to receive food, and the quantity he could consume when he was unfettered was so great that a crew made up of men proportionately as great eaters would have made a captain wince when stores were running out, and shipowners decline to take them again at any wage.

There being a pretty good amount of the deer haunch left when the men departed—for in their hurry and excitement no one had thought it worth while to pack it up—Watty was left, so to speak, with a free hand—that is to say, he had a fire, plenty of meat, a knife, he knew how to cook, and there was no one to say, "Hold hard, young fellow! I'm sure you have had quite enough." So after making such arrangements as should provide an ample amount of roast deer for Steve when he returned, and also for the three personages of the expedition, Watty took a look round.

The sun was getting lower, but the glittering ice peaks and the lights and shades on the mountain were beautiful to behold. But Watty did not see that beauty. He noticed how profound the silence was, thought it very lonely, and turned back to the fire, which was the most beautiful thing he had seen that day, for the gas and smoke were gone, and the coal was all of a hot glow, there being plenty and no question of its price per ton.

"She wonters where the young chief has gone," muttered Watty. "Hey, but what a fire to broil a bone!"

A minute later the leg bone of the buck was spitting and sputtering on the glowing coals, and Watty smiled as he felt in his pockets and brought out a tobacco box, which, on being opened, proved to contain two pieces of rag, which he also opened, and displayed about a dessert-spoonful of salt and about half that quantity of black pepper.

"She smells fine alreaty," said the lad; and he took a pinch of pepper as if it were snuff, and carefully sprinkled it over the grilling bone, following it up with a pinch of salt. Then the box, with its contents, was put away, and Watty dived into his pockets again, to bring out a couple of biscuits.

"Twa biscuit," he said. "Hey, but she willna waste ta pread when she can have sae muckle gude meat!"

He turned the bone over and waited a few minutes, which he spent in whetting the blade of his knife on a piece of smooth stone, and trying its edge again and again, and ending by giving it a stropping on his boot sole as if he meant to shave.

"Done!" he cried suddenly; and whisking the browned and in some places blackened bone from the fire, he squatted down with his legs doubled under him like a Japanese, and began to skin off pieces of the tempting venison, and ate them deliberately, smiling with satisfaction the while.

"I ken naebody could hae cookit deer meat efer so petter as tat," he said as he worked away, thoroughly enjoying his picnic meal till the last scrap was cleaned off, and then he cracked the bone with the back of his knife, and managed to get out a good deal of the marrow.

"She's fine, though she is mickle," he said; and then he sighed and looked hard at the pieces of the deer set aside for the absent ones—a shabby, raggedly cut lot, though of course of delicious meat.

Watty stretched his eyes away and had a look round.

"They dinna come pack," he said, "and it's chust wasting a bonnie bit fire."

There was a pause.

"She'd petter pit on some mair coal," muttered Watty; and he picked up a weather-worn lump, but dropped it again.

"It's chust spoiling a gude fire to put on mair coal," he said softly, with his face all wrinkles, "and a' tat meat waiting."

He had another look round.

"She's ferry hungry," he muttered; "and she'll chust hae ane wee pit. The captain said he couldna eat. She can."

He made a dart at the biggest piece, laid it on the glowing coal, seasoned it as before, waited till it was done on one side, and then picked it up cleverly on the point of his knife and turned it, seasoned this side also, and replaced his box.

"Peautiful, peautiful!" he murmured. "Hey, put she smells petter than floores!"

He did not leave the meat to cook too long, but soon had it out and laid upon a nicely warmed, flat piece of slaty stone, which served him for a plate as he began to eat with the greatest of gusto.

"Hey, put she is chuicy," he muttered, as he munched away without paying much heed to a bit or two of cinder adhering to the meat and sounding unpleasant as he crunched them between his strong, white teeth.

"Peautiful!" he murmured again, as he got about half-way through. "She's thenking it would pe petter to begin cooking mair so as to be retty when they come pack."

So he placed another piece on the fire, and then went on eating his second snack so slowly and deliberately, spending a certain amount of time the while in watching and turning the cooking piece that it was beautifully done by the time he had finished; and now came a terrible test of his powers of endurance. He looked at the frizzled slice, then away from it, then back at it; and it tempted him so sorely that he got up and walked away.

"She's letting the fire oot," he cried, and ran back to stand looking down at it. "Nay, put she'd spoil a gude cooking fire if she put on anny coal. She'll cook ta rest."

No sooner said than done. A fresh piece was put on the glowing cinders, and the newly cooked slice placed upon the bit of shale.

"She'll chust spoil if she gets caud," muttered Watty. "The teer-fat goes hart and stickits to the roof of her mouth, an' it's a pity to spoil such bonnie meat."

He gave his shock head a rub, and looked round again, wondering whether there were any bears likely to come and disturb him; but, as far as he could see, he was quite alone in the grand solitude, and he uttered a deep sigh.

"She never said she was to cook anny meat," he said, "an' it such a pity to let it spoil. She'll chust eat this wee pit, an' they'll pe pack py the time the nex' pit is tone."

Watty took another look, then seasoned and saw to the fresh piece frizzling; and the next minute the smell and sight of the slice upon the stone were too tempting to be resisted longer, and he began upon it and finished it as ravenously as if he had not had a morsel before.

"Hey, put she is fine," he murmured with a sigh of satisfaction; "she never hat such a gran' treat pefore, an' it would pe wicket to let such gude meat spoil by ketting caud. The captain an' the tocktor poth said they wadna eat a pit, an' perhaps Meester Stevey's gone pack to ta ship or the poat pecause she was tired. She hasna the hairt to see such gude meat spoil."

Poor Watty had grown reckless now, and, casting conscience to the winds, he went on with his banquet. His appetite seemed to increase as he went on, and, forgetful of bears, captains, doctors, Norsemen, and Steves, seeing, tasting, and enjoying the cooking and eating of these juicy, well-seasoned, delicious pieces of venison, time seemed to be no more for him, and he only awoke to his position as he shook out the contents of his pepper and salt rags on the last piece of meat, a goodly slice, the best of all, which he had avoided eating, always having selected the smaller bits.

"Hat she petter leave tat?" he sighed, as he looked at it longingly and passed his tongue over his lips. "Nay, if she toes, they'll expeckit mair; put if there's nane they winna say a word. She'll hae to eat tat, too."

The piece was half done, and he turned it, inhaling its delicious odour as he gloated over the brown side, and then took out his biscuits and had them ready.

"Chust to fanish off," he said, smiling faintly. "She'll chust pit it atween twa biscuit, an' mak' a santwich of it, an' then—Yah!"

Watty uttered an unearthly yell, for a great shadow fell across the fire at that moment, and he was thrust sidewise, to fall just clear of the fire upon his face.

"The pears—the pears!" he groaned. "What shall she to?" But he did not stir, neither did he see that the piece of hot meat had been literally snatched off the fire, and a crunching sound told him that a pair of strong jaws, with great, white teeth that in imagination he could see gleaming, were grinding up the biscuits that were to form the finale of his meal.

"The pear always hugs her pefore she eats her oop," thought Watty, as he lay there shivering with dread, this being the only movement he could contrive, feeling as he did that if he attempted to escape the great animal would seize him. Then he recollected reading about a traveller pretending to be dead, and lying face downward till a bear in pursuit overtook him, smelled him over, and then went away.

"She lie as tet as a toornail," thought Watty; and he tried to hold his breath as he waited for the bear to come. But it was evidently too busy with the food, crunching up the biscuits and finishing the meat.

"Oh, if she could only lie still an' not preathe a pit!" said the lad to himself. "She can't, an' it makes a noise. She wishes the pear would come an' smell her an' go."

But the new arrival was too busy, and made Watty, as he lay there on his face, moist with perspiration, wonder how so big a beast could be so long eating so small a quantity of food.

At last the boy felt as if he could endure no more, and that he must make a leap to his feet and run for his life. He knew that the thing to do would be to draw a very deep breath, make a sudden effort, and run, for the suffering from lying there those brief minutes, which seemed to be like hours, was more than he could endure.

He had made up his mind to try, but his heart sank, and he lay a little longer. A second time he tried to screw himself up to the sticking-point, but failed, and lay panting, till all at once, just as he was saying to himself, "She must to it ta third time," the bear uttered a low "Ah-ah-ah!" and the lad sprang to his feet.

"That's right, Watty; get me a drink of water."

"Meester Stevey!" exclaimed the lad. "Oh! oh! oh!" he half sobbed, and, throwing himself again upon the ground, he buried his face in his hands, and lay gently rolling from side to side, trying to stifle the hysterical fit which had attacked him; for it was mingled with relief from what he had looked upon as certain death, anger with himself for making such a blunder, and delight at Steve's return.

"Why, Watty, what's the matter?" cried Steve. "I do believe he's crying. Get up. Did you think I was dead?"

"Yes, we all tought you wass teat, an' I tought the pear wass come to eat me, ant—ant—ant—she's ferry clad to see you acain, though she don't like you."

"Well, you are a rum chap, Watty! I say, you didn't mind my snatching away that meat? I couldn't help it, I was nearly starved."

"No, she ton't mind," replied the lad. "She'd hat a little pit o' meat pefore. But she's all scratted, an' her het pleets, an' she's cot no skin on her knuckles!"

"Oh, never mind that! I got away—escaped. But it was very bad."

"Put it wass ferry pad! What wass ferry pad?"

"Having a couple of bears after you."

"An' she had twa pears after her?"

"Yes, monsters. They hunted me all along a gully right up into the mountain."

"Hey! An' tid they catch her?"

"No; one got tired and stopped, but the other came right on to where it was all ice and snow. Up yonder," said Steve, pointing to the glittering slopes and peaks far above their heads.

"An' what tid that one to? Tid she ket tired?"

"No," said Steve. "I made a jump to get up a steep bit of the ice, caught hold, and then fell right on to the bear as it was coming up after me."

"Hey, tid she, though?"

"Yes; and knocked it off the slope, and we went down together for a little way rolling over and over. Then I found I was alone, for the bear had clawed about and stopped itself; but I was sliding and slipping there down and down, I don't know how far, but it must have been hundreds of feet over the steep snow, till I rolled over among the stones and cut my head."

"Hey, and she has cut it! Hadn't she petter tie it up?"

"Oh, that's nothing."

"Put what tid the pear to?"

"I don't know. I didn't see any more of it. I suppose it's up there in the mountain somewhere. I say, Watty, I wish I'd had Skeny with me. I don't know, though; perhaps the bears would have killed him. Where are the others?"

"They're gone to leuk for you. She's waiting for them to come pack."

"Have they got Skeny with them? He ought to have scented me out, so that they could have shot the bears."

"Skeny? Na; she tidn't see the tog."

Steve started.

"Why, Watty, I don't remember seeing him when we turned back with the deer; did you?"

"Na, she tidn't see the tog since she rin after a teer. She wass going ferry fast, an' she forgot all spout the tog after. She hopes the tog isna lost."

"No fear! Skeny will find his way back. Oh, how stiff and sore I am! Hark!"

There was a faint whistle from the distance, and Watty leaped up, and, thrusting his fingers into his mouth, blew an answer.

A couple of minutes later, as the boys stood watching in the direction from which the sound had come, they made out three figures on the slope of the mountain. Then these three figures stopped, and began to wave their caps, and directly after they broke into a trot, and were soon up by the fire.

"Steve, lad!" cried Captain Marsham. "Thank God, you are safe!"

"Where have you been, boy?" cried the doctor joyfully, as he wrung the hand the captain had left at liberty. "Why, you have made me a job. Get some water, my lad," he continued to Watty, and laying down his gun he began to take out a pocket-book to get sticking-plaster and scissors.

"I'm very glad, Mr Steve," said Johannes quietly. "We thought you were lost."

While the doctor washed away the marks left by Steve's fall and carefully applied sticking-plaster the boy told his adventure, Watty listening again attentively, and now watching the speaker, now the mountain-side, in full expectation of seeing the bear make its appearance from one of the gullies; but there was no interruption, and they heard all.

"You must not leave your friends again, my lad," said the captain. "We must all be ready to help each other; co-operation is power. Well, how do you feel now?"

"So stiff I can hardly move," replied Steve.

"Then we must camp here for a few hours. Fortunately we have a little of the provisions in our satchels. Where's the rest of the meat, my lad?"

Watty turned more red than usual. "There isna a pit left, sir. Meester Stevey ate oop a' there wass left."

"Bravo, Steve, my boy!" cried the doctor merrily. "Any one who can eat well has not much the matter with him."

"I felt starved when I came back," said Steve, colouring. "I couldn't help it."

Watty looked horribly guilty; but his was not the nature to make a clean breast of the matter, and he sat furtively watching the little party as the provisions were brought out; and free from care now, they all began to eat.

"Here, Watty," said Steve, as soon as he received a portion, "we must not forget you."

"Na, sir, she couldna eat a pit," cried the lad truthfully, and it was only by great persuasion that his modesty was overcome; but certainly he did not do justice to the biscuits and cheese handed to him, for there were limits even to his capacity.

Just as they had about finished, a distant barking was heard, and Steve tried to stand up, but sank back with a groan.

"Skeny!" he cried. "Oh, I say, I am stiff!"

"The dog! Ah, where has he been all this time?"

"She went off efter the teer, and tidna come pack."

"Not after deer now, gentlemen," cried Johannes, snatching up his spear. "Quick! your guns."

The weapons were seized, and all now caught sight of that which had attracted the Norseman's attention; for a huge bear was seen coming down from a ravine, followed by the dog, which kept on snapping savagely at the beast's heels, and then as the bear turned bounded out of its reach.

But the bear did not appear disposed to follow the dog, acting directly after as if it had some object in view, for it turned again, placed its nose close to the ground, and came on toward the little open camp.

"That's my big bear!" said Steve excitedly. "How do you know?" said the captain, altering the cartridge in one of his barrels for a bullet.

"Because I came down from the mountain that way; and look, he's smelling my footsteps."

"Yes, that is right, gentlemen. The brute will be here soon. Shall we meet him here, or get among the rocks?"

"What do you say?" cried the captain. "Here, sir, now that we are not out of breath. If we climb, our hands will tremble."

"But I've no gun," said Steve.

"And you are not fit to use one, so leave it to us, my boy. Will it come on when it sees us, Johannes?"

"Yes, sir, I think so. These beasts are very fierce, and they have had so little to do with man, that they do not avoid him. We must be very steady and stand firm. I'll attack first from the right."

"What, with the spear?" cried Captain Marsham. "No!"

"It would be better, sir," said the Norseman respectfully. "These animals move rather slowly. It will turn to attack me savagely; and as I try to keep it off with the spear, it will be side on to you, and give you both good shots at the shoulder. Don't aim at the head until it is down."

"You are right," said the captain. "Do as you say, but take care of yourself."

"I leave that to you, gentlemen," said the man, smiling. "You will have to shoot the brute while I hold its attention."

There was no more time for conversation, for the bear was coming steadily on, checked by the dog from time to time, the former action being repeated again and again, and Skene's activity enabling him to leap away from the savage blows directed at him by the bear.

"Cartridges all right, Handscombe?" cried the captain sharply.

"Yes; both fresh."

"Mind not to hit the dog."

The doctor nodded, and Steve stood with his heart beating, wishing that he had the gun far away now upon the sledge, though he was fain to believe that his hands shook, so that he could not have shot straight. He had to join with Watty in occupying the position of spectators, and he was watching the bear come on, still without appearing to realise their presence, when the captain said:

"I don't think we shall have any difficulty with the brute; but you lads must be ready to take to the rocks if we do. He might charge by us."

"Just a few yards forward, sir," said Johannes; "the ground is more level."

They moved away from where the boys were standing to a spot free from fallen rocks; and Steve's heart beat more heavily, as he felt how brave it seemed to be to step forward to the attack of so fierce a beast—one which, by a single stroke of the paw, could sweep away those strong men; and as the bear came on, once more he saw himself breathless and exhausted, climbing up and up the snowy slope towering above where he now stood, with the savage beast close at his heels, merciless and untiring, and so determined that it had gone on tracking him ever since his escape. All this robbed him of any feeling of commiseration for the ferocious creature, and he hoped fervently that it was coming on surely to its fate.

"She'll come an' climb oop amang the rocks?" whispered Watty just then.

"No, no; stop here," said Steve hoarsely.

"She'll pe safer," whispered Watty.

"Be quiet and look on," replied Steve angrily.

"She'll pe kilt," groaned the lad; but he was silent afterwards, and as much interested in the scene before him as his companion.

And all the while the snapping, growling, and turning went on while the bear approached nearer and nearer, still without seeing those who waited for it with their deadly weapons poised. It seemed at first that in its heavy way the animal would have come close up; but at last, when it was not more than fifty yards distant, Skene made a sharper charge than ever, as if delighted that his master and friends should see his prowess, charging so close home that he seized the long hair upon the bear's leg, gave it a shake, and narrowly escaped the claws which were dashed savagely at it.

But Skene was nimble, and now he darted forward to where his friends were, barking loudly, as much as to say, "Here he is; look out!" and then dashed back again.

But the bear had followed the dog with its eyes, and now, forsaking the scent it had been running down, it swung its head from side to side so as to get each eye to bear well in turn upon its enemies, quite ignoring the dog when he dashed back barking furiously.

"Call the dog, and keep him with you, Steve," said the captain loudly, but without turning; and in obedience to the summons Skene returned to his master, and stayed there, held by the long hair of his neck, trembling with excitement.

There was a low, deep growl now, and the bear stopped, facing them, as if undecided whom first to attack; and then it came on again growling, with its mind still not made up.

These were the most exciting moments, for all felt that the beast might charge in a way which gave no good opportunity for a deadly shot.

It was very close now, and its eyes flashed in the sunshine as it swung its head about with its muzzle close down to the ground, though it was not scenting its way now, but carefully watching its enemies.

Skene uttered an excited yelp just then, and recognising in it the little foe which had so pertinaciously hung on to it for some time past, the bear now uttered a growl, and turned toward where Steve stood with the dog.

"Rin, Meester Stevey, rin!" cried Watty, setting the example; "she's coming here."

But the bear soon changed its tactics, for Johannes took a few steps forward and made a thrust at the animal with his lance.

The great brute uttered a furious roar, swung round, struck at the lance shaft, and rose up upon its hind legs to seize the aggressor.

It was a dangerous position for the Norseman, for could the bear get one blow at him with its great hook-armed paw, his chances of being extricated alive were doubtful. But he stood firm, for he had perfect confidence in the captain, and knew that he would seize this opportunity to fire. He was quite right. The captain drew trigger, there was the sharp, loud crack of the rifle, and almost simultaneously the thud of the bullet.

The bear uttered a furious roar, and swung round to meet the enemy who had struck it that terrible blow on its shoulder. This brought it into an inconvenient position for the doctor to get his shot, for the animal was now face on to them; but it gave Johannes his chance, of which he was not long in availing himself, for he rushed in and gave the monster a terrible thrust with the lance.

The next instant the bear had swung round, snapping the shaft in two like a straw, and made for Johannes with a roar, when, just as it was on the point of overtaking the now unarmed man, crack went the captain's rifle again, but without checking the monster in the least, and Johannes' fate seemed sealed, when, with a sharp hiss, Steve loosed the dog.

"At him, Skeny! css!"

The dog dashed at the bear with a furious burst of barks, and fixed his teeth in the monster's hind leg, so diverting its attention that it stopped to strike at the new enemy.

It was a fatal moment for the bear, but it gave the Norseman an opportunity to escape. For, as the brute stopped to turn on Skene, the doctor now had his chance, and fired, from not ten yards' distance, two shots right in the shoulder, and with an aim that told well of his knowledge of anatomy, for the bear stopped, rose up, and struck at the air with its paws as if imagining its enemy was within reach, and then, as it towered up far higher than a tall man, tottered for a moment or two, and fell over backward—dead.

"Well done, Handscombe!" cried Captain Marsham warmly. "But, Johannes, my good fellow, you were too daring; you ought not to have run so great a risk."

"I am not hurt, sir," said the Norseman, smiling gravely; "and it gave you the chance to fire."

"Yes; but suppose I had not been there to fire?" cried the captain.

"Ah, that would have been different, sir. Then I should not have been there to break my lance in the bear's chest."

Johannes smiled as he approached the bear more closely to extricate his spear.

"Mind!" cried Steve. "Perhaps he is not quite dead."

"There is no fear, sir," replied the man; and, seizing the broken shaft, he dragged the head out of the bear's body, and then took out his knife.

"What are you going to do?" said Steve.

"Skin it, sir," replied the man, looking surprised that such a question should be asked.

"But suppose its mate comes?"

Johannes paused, and looked dubious.

"Ah!" he said, "then we should have to fight the mate."

"No more fighting this time," said the captain. "And Steve is quite right; the other bear may come in search of its companion. We must not attempt to camp here."

"I should say not," cried the doctor, "if we are likely to have another bear visitor."

"Do you think you can walk a few miles, Steve?" asked the doctor.

"Yes, if you will go slowly," replied the boy. "I'm very stiff now, but I shall get better as we go on."

And risking the destruction and loss of the skin, they started at once for the boat, to reach it after what to Steve was a long and painful walk.

That night he slept so soundly that ten hours had passed before he made his appearance in the cabin, a good deal scratched and otherwise marked, but little the worse for his adventure.



CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

SIGNS OF THE COLD.

The skin of the bear was considered to be of too much value to be left to rot, so that next morning a fresh start was made as before, and in due time the place was reached where the roughly-built fireplace stood up blackened against the grey stones. But the bear lay out of sight beyond a mass of rock.

As they came to where the animal should have been, it did not seem to be there; but directly after Steve pointed, nearly speechless with wonder.

"Look!" he cried. "Come to life again."

Johannes laughed.

"Hardly," he said; "don't you see that it is the bear's mate."

So it proved; and upon the party approaching the dead animal, their coming was savagely resented, and the second bear came on at once to the attack so fiercely that the battle began at once, with the result that the Norsemen, who had all accompanied this expedition, had two bears to skin, and the sledge was heavily laden with the valuable portion of their game.

Certain threatening signs were pointed out by Johannes soon after, and they started back, but did not reach the boat till the ground was covered with snow and a peculiar chill was in the air. This snow in summer was unseasonable, but it made the sleigh run easily, and the boat was reached in less time than had been anticipated; but the mountain slopes on either side of the fiord were completely transformed by the snow, an early taste of the winter they might expect to set in before long if they stayed.

As the summer glided on the great rampart of ice was patiently watched for tokens of melting, but these signs were few; and as the sun rose less high day by day, and there were once more hours of darkness, the prospect of their having to bear the winter where they were began to be discussed.

But meanwhile there was a long expedition as often as the men had cleared away the quantities of seal and walrus blubber that were brought in and rendered down. These expeditions were made to embrace business and investigation; and their knowledge of the lay of the land increasing, they persevered in their search wherever it was possible to penetrate the valleys, while the coast to north and south was explored as far as the boats could go.

But there was no sign of the lost crew, and as the time wore on it became evident that they were not in the region occupied by their friends.

"Let us hope that they may have reached home by now," said the doctor one evening. "I think we have done everything we can to find them."

"Everything," said the captain gravely; "but we cannot fight against fate."

There began to be certain signs now of the short summer nearing its termination, beside the setting of the sun in the far north-west. The birds were not so plentiful, and whenever a flock approached as many ducks and geese as possible were shot, and placed in ice for use in the winter, when no doubt they would all have gone south.

Thanks to the Norwegians, too, who proved to be very ingenious in watching the seals so as to find suitable places, plenty of fish were caught, making a most agreeable addition to their diet.

At last the captain announced to the men that there was no necessity for more walrus or seal hunts to be carried out, for the cargo was sufficient, and that now they were to occupy their time more with hunting and exploring, so as to make their stores of venison and dried and salted fish so ample that they could set the winter at defiance.

"Then you really think that we shall have to stay here all the winter, sir?" cried Steve.

"I have not a doubt about it now, my boy," replied the captain. "We came to help at first; now we are badly in want of help ourselves."

"It doesn't much matter, does it?" said Steve. "We are all very happy and strong; and if we stop through the winter, we shall be here ready for the breaking up of the ice."

"Yes, Steve, quite ready," said the captain, rather sadly; "but I did not mean to be caught like this."

"We've got months yet, haven't we, before the real winter comes?"

"Not up in this latitude," said the captain, smiling. "According to my calculations, we are as far north as any expedition has been. Did you notice anything this morning when you first got up?"

"No, only that it was rather cold for August."

"Yes, my lad, more than rather, for there was a thin film of ice on the fiord till the sun touched it. Only a very thin film, but a suggestion of how soon winter sets in up here."

But the next day proved to be so glorious, bright, and sunny that Steve could not realise the fact that the winter would be upon them soon. There were tiny flowers in sunny corners, the sea and sky were of a brilliant blue, and the birds that were sailing round and round, and, chasing each other, made the rocks echo with their joyous cries.

"This place is so sheltered that we ought not to feel the winter so very much," he said to himself; and he walked up to where the Norsemen were seated rebinding the lashing about their lance heads, examining the grommetting round the harpoons, and planing up a fresh shaft for a lance whose handle had been cracked in an encounter with a huge walrus, which gave one vigorous flap and broke away, the lance handle snapping as if it had been a match, at the same time preparing one for Johannes' weapon broken by the bear.

"Morning," he said; and the fair, big, grave-looking fellows returned his salute with a smile.

"Going to be fine weather?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, fine and clear for some days yet. I don't think we shall have any snow."

"I should hope not," said Steve, smiling. "I say, Johannes, didn't we have a bit of a frost this morning?"

"Yes, sir, a slight one."

"You don't think that's a sign of the winter coming, do you?"

"Yes, sir; and very soon."

"What nonsense!" cried Steve. "Why, we often have sharp frosts at home in April and May, and they don't mean that winter is coming. Why do you think it is coming so soon?"

The big Norseman smiled.

"Because, sir, it is not coming; it has already come."

"Come?"

"Yes," said Johannes, raising his hand, and pointing to the dazzling peaks of ice and the glistening snow coming quite low down on the slopes, leading gradually to the lake-like shores of the fiord; "there it is, sir."

"Oh, but ice and snow have been there all the summer."

"What we call the summer, sir; but it seems to me that the winter is always here. It rises a little when the sun comes back and a part of the snow melts; but if we climb up into the mountains a little way, it freezes every night, and the winter is always there. And now the sun rises a little less high every day, and there is real night which grows longer as the days grow shorter."

"Yes, I noticed that the days grew shorter," said Steve, as he looked up at the realm of eternal winter with aching eyes.

"Much, sir; and if we measured we should soon see that the snow up yonder was creeping down toward us week by week."

Steve was silent for a few minutes, as he tried to familiarise himself with these wonderful facts about nature in the arctic circle.

"I say, Johannes," he said at last, "what about the ice down at the opening of the fiord—will it give way this year?"

"No, sir," said the man quietly.

"Then for certain we shall not be able to get out?"

"For certain you will not be able to get out, sir."

"Then there is no doubt about it whatever; we shall have to spend the winter here, frozen up?"

"Yes, sir. I have had no doubt about it for weeks; neither has the captain, as you have seen by the great store of food he has buried in the ice."

"Well, it will be a change," said Steve after a pause. "I suppose it will not be so very cold?"

The Norseman laughed.

"Colder than you think for, sir; but not too cold to bear if you take care. You must not go away into the mountains by yourself."

"Couldn't help it if a bear were after me," said Steve, laughing. "But I shall take care. I say, though, tell me about the darkness: does the sun go right out of sight?"

"Yes, sir, for weeks."

"And it is quite dark—black darkness?"

"It is about the same as it is in England, sir. There are light nights when the sky is clear, and you can see the moon and stars, and there are dark nights when it is cloudy or a mist hangs low."

"Seems queer," said Steve thoughtfully.

"But you had the constant day, sir, when the sun never set."

"Well, I daresay I shall get used to it," said Steve; and he went to get his gun and ammunition ready, so as to be prepared for a little exploring expedition which the captain was going to lead along the shore.

And now for the rest of the open time trips were made north and south along the coast, efforts being directed to going farther in each direction before the frost made progress in the boats impossible. Of these trips many were made, each being pushed farther north or south; for the ice had opened more and more away from the shore, increasing the length and width of the channel in the incomprehensible, unexpected manner in which such changes do take place amongst the ice.

But it was always the same: not a trace of human being having been there before; no post or cairn erected; no sign of the rough hut that sailors who had come so far north would build up as a protection while hunting the walrus and the seal.

"It seems to me," the captain said, "that we are the first visitors without doubt. Would that we were the second, and could find our friends were the first!"

"If this is the first time the country has been reached," said Steve, "oughtn't we to christen it by some name? How would Walrus Land do?"

"As well as any other name," said the captain; "but, whatever we call it, there is no doubt but that it will be many more years before it is reached again. It is hardly likely that another expedition will meet with such an accident as that which brought us here. Walrus Land be it then, for the huge, unwieldy creatures are plentiful enough. How soon are you going to let your pet go? It grows very fast."

"Let it go!" cried Steve wonderingly. "Why, I meant to take it back to England."

"For the Zoological Gardens? You can't keep it, like a dog, in the back yard."

"No," said Steve thoughtfully; "it would want a kennel."

"Kennel? It would want an elephant house. No, my lad, it will not do; you will have to set our friend at liberty, or let me tell Johannes to turn it into oil."

That was one day at the end of August, when at midday the sun shone quite hot, and they knew that harvest must be in full progress at home. They had been so great a distance to the south that it was all the men could do to pull back; and, as it was, they did not reach the mouth of the narrow waterway until close upon ten o'clock, and the Hvalross till they were so utterly tired out that, after snatching a hasty meal, all were eager to throw themselves down to sleep.

Safely anchored as they were, shut in from storms, right out where no bears, even if they swam out, could assail them, the keeping of a watch seemed very unnecessary, and Steve never thought it more so than that night, when he found that it was his turn to take the second watch in company with Johannes; for he was regularly fagged. However, his was only the watch to come, so that he was able to get a good sleep before he was called, and then arose with his eyes half closed and a general desire to quarrel with everything and everybody.

"It does seem so stupid!" he grumbled. "What's the good of it?"

"Being under a first-rate captain, sir, one who never lets discipline grow slack."

"Oh, bother!" said Steve testily. "It seems such a nuisance when one is so tired and sleepy. It does no good now."

"Yes, sir, a great deal," replied the Norseman. "Makes every one feel confident that he is being watched over, and may sleep in peace."

"Wish I was being watched over and could sleep in peace," groaned out Steve. "No, I don't," he hastened to add; "it would be so precious selfish. But I'm not well, Johannes; I'm chilly. Got a bad cold, I think."

"Then go and get your sheep-skin coat."

"Would you? Well, I think I will."

He went back to the cabin, and returned, putting on the thick coat, with its closely-cut pile of wool, shorn so regularly that it looked like velvet in the light of the glistening stars.

"I don't like this watching in the dark," said Steve. "And how strange it is! Only the other day it was quite light at this time. Ugh! how cold I feel!"

"You'll be better soon," said Johannes. "You have not had time yet to feel the good of your coat."

"What good can that do me when I'm not well?" grumbled Steve. "Hullo! you've got on yours."

"Yes, sir; and it's very welcome. The air is very cold to-night."

"Freezing?"

"Yes, sir, hard. I daresay we shall find the fiord covered with ice in the morning. Winter is coming, sir, you see."

"Oh, but this is only a night frost that will go away in the sun quite early."

"Perhaps so, sir; but you can never be sure about the weather at this time of year. It will make some of the walrus boats turn their heads south, many of them perhaps empty, while here they swarm more than ever."

"Then they should come up here and catch them."

"How?" said Johannes.

"Sail and steam, as we did."

"Yes, sir, that sounds easy; but suppose they cannot? Suppose you made up your mind to sail south to-morrow?"

"Well, we couldn't go for the ice."

"Exactly, sir; and the walrus boats couldn't sail up here for the ice."

"Ugh! it is cold," said Steve with a shiver. "I wonder what the glass says. Wish I'd looked."

"It would not have been a fair test, sir; it is warmer down in the cabin. You are not unwell, only you feel the chill just waking up from sleep."

"Yes, I feel better now. How the stars shine!"

"You'll see them brighter by-and-by, sir," said Johannes. "Have you got anything hard in your pocket?"

"Only my knife. What do you want?"

"Something for you," replied the Norseman. "Wait a minute, sir."

He turned and stepped down into the furnace-room, to return directly.

"Take that, sir."

"What is it? Lump of coal? What for?"

"Throw it right out on the ice, sir. I want you to try it. Quick! there's something for you to look at now."

"But surely there's no ice for it to fall on," said Steve. "It's impossible."

All the same, he took the lump of coal, and, drawing back, threw it as far as he could out over the fiord; and, to his utter astonishment, when it fell he heard it rebound with the regular musical ring of a hard substance upon ice, and strike again and again before it became motionless.

"Why, the ice must be quite half an inch thick!" cried Steve. "No wonder I felt cold."

"Yes, sir, it's freezing hard; the winter has begun, though of course it will be warm in the fine days. But look; there's a sure sign of the cold weather coming."

He pointed to the northward, where the Great Bear shone with a brightness foreign to that which he would have seen at home.

"What am I to look at?" said Steve; "that soft light? It's the Milky Way."

"No, sir, the aurora. There it goes; it is spreading right along."

"Then it's the sun going to rise!" cried Steve.

"In the north-west, sir? No, it's the aurora; you will see it stream up in rays right away to the Pole Star soon. Yes, I thought so;" for, even as he was speaking, sheaves of thin pencils of soft lambent light streamed right away up toward the zenith, then sank, wavered about, and then streamed up once again.

"Finer than I should have expected, sir," said Johannes, as the glow near the horizon increased till it was now pale white, now of a delicate blush, while the pencils of light flickered up and streamed and waved, and looked in their delicate, dawn-like colouring like the spirits of fire or light flying upward from earth to heaven.

"What is it?" said Steve at last, after gazing at the wondrous phenomenon for a long time.

"Ah, sir, you must ask some one wiser than I am to answer that question. All I can tell you is that cold weather generally comes after the sky has been lit up as if it was the inside of some great shell, and with as many colours, only more light and faint."

The aurora flashed up brighter and then sank, flickered as if dying out, and then blazed up again, if the term can be applied to the exquisitely soft, lambent glow playing in the north; but its movements were those of leaping flame flashing up from a huge fire, growing exhausted, and then dying down till almost invisible, but only to light up the northern heavens again, from horizon almost to zenith, with its dawn-like beauty, till it grew hard to imagine that there was not something more to follow.

"One would think that some kind of pale, cold sun was about to rise over there," said Steve at last. "Are you sure that nothing will rise?"

"Nothing but more rays, sir."

"Cold rays," muttered Steve, drawing his fingers in under the sleeves of his sheep-skin coat. "I say, Johannes, are you warm?"

"Yes, sir."

"My fingers are numbed, and it's getting hold of my toes. I'll go down and have five minutes' warm by the cabin fire."

"No, sir, don't. Take my advice. Let's have a trot up and down the deck till your blood circulates. Exercise is the thing out here. Blood always running about through your veins, that's the thing to keep you warm."

"But one is so much better after a good warm!"

"For a few minutes, sir; but get yourself warm by a good run, and it will last for hours. Take my word; I know."

"But you've never been frozen up here?"

"Oh yes, sir, twice. Not for long, but quite long enough to know how to act most sensibly as to eating and drinking."

"Does that make much difference?" said Steve, as they walked sharply along the deck, and then broke into the double, step for step.

"All the difference, sir. Eat and drink well up here in these cold places, and you are able to stand the cold."

"What do you eat, then?"

"Meat with plenty of fat, sir, and warmth-producing stuff like sugar. The Eskimo people almost live upon fat—blubber and oil."

"Ugh!" ejaculated Steve; "how horrible! But look here, Johannes, what do you people drink up here to help—plenty of grog?"

"No, sir, not a drop," said the Norseman sharply. "That does more harm than good. Makes a man feverishly hot for a few minutes, then leaves him colder than he was before."

"What do you drink, then?" said Steve, staring at the man's earnestness.

"Tea, sir; plenty of good, hot tea. It rests and refreshes a man directly, and he can do more work on hot tea than upon anything else that has been tried."

"Well, I don't mind tea," said Steve rather jerkily; for it was beginning to be hard work to keep on talking while trotting round and round the deck. But Johannes, though measuring his big strides to make them fit with the boy's, kept up the trot till Steve was so thoroughly out of breath that at the end of a quarter of an hour he stopped short and then dropped upon a coil of rope.

"Don't sit down, sir!" cried Johannes. "It's too cold for that. Out of breath?"

"Yes—quite!" panted Steve. "My word! what a run!"

"Feel cold, sir?"

"Who's to feel cold," puffed Steve, "after running miles like that? I'm getting hot."

"Then now let's walk, so that you don't cool down too fast."

"Why, here's old Skeny!" cried Steve, patting the dog's rough head. "I didn't see him."

"He has been trotting round just behind us all the time, sir," said Johannes, bending down in turn to pat the dog, who ruffled up his great thick frill and uttered a low growl.

"Ah!" cried Steve. "Quiet! Don't you know your friends yet, sir?"

The dog growled again; and this time apparently at his master.

"Ah! would you?" cried Steve; and the dog wagged his tail, making it flap up against the Norseman's leg; but he growled again.

"It isn't at us, sir," said Johannes. "He hears something ashore. What is it, then, old fellow?"

The dog uttered a sharp bark, and ran to the bulwarks, reared up, and tried to look over.

"There's something coming over the ice. Hark!"

They listened breathlessly, while the dog uttered a low whine.

"Yes, I can hear it now, sir," whispered Johannes. "Listen!"

Steve was already listening to a strange whistling noise which sounded as if hundreds of boys were a long way off, making the lashes of as many whips whish through the air together; and this sound came nearer and nearer, till it grew close to them—over, beneath, around—and so strange in the darkness, lit up only by the stars which were gleaming on the ice as well as above, and the lambent rays of the aurora, that Steve felt a curious sensation of dread stealing over him, and he involuntarily crept closer to the Norseman, and whispered:

"It is—something coming from up by the glacier over the ice;" while the sound increased, and sounded so awe-inspiring that the lad could not help a shiver.

Johannes was silent and did not stir.

"Don't you hear it?" said Steve again. "Shall I get a gun?"

"No; and it is a pity to disturb the captain and doctor. It is not on the ice, sir," replied Johannes.

"But it is, I tell you."

"No, sir; I've heard it before. It is only echoed from the hard, flat surface. Hah! what a number we might shoot if we wanted them!"

"What do you mean?"

"Wild fowl, sir. They're not geese, or they would make a clanging noise. They must be ducks."

"Ducks?" cried Steve, staring upwards and seeing nothing.

"Yes, sir. Another sign of the cold weather. They're all banded together in one great flight, and are going south to the marshes of North Russia, where they'll stay till it begins to freeze there, and then go farther south."

"But are you sure? Oh, they wouldn't take flight in the dark!"

"Sure, sir? Listen to the whistling of their wings, hundreds and thousands of them flying over as fast as they can go. Yes, they always fly in the night when they're going from here south, and I believe birds come north in the same way, following after the frost as it is driven north. I've noticed it at home near Nordoe. To-day there would be no birds at all in the spring; next day there would be hundreds of them flying about. They must have come in the night."

Steve had not a word to say, but stood there silent, listening to the whirring of the thousands of wings which echoed from the ice and the sides of the fiord, sounding so close that he felt disposed to stretch out his hand and try to touch that which seemed to be within reach. Then he began to wonder how many thousands there would be, and where they had come from; and then how it was that this plain, homely Norwegian should know so much better than he, and show that he had passed his life picking up knowledge peculiar to his surroundings, so that he was able to teach those around him again and again.

"Isn't there going to be any end of them?" said the boy at last; for the peculiar whirring had been going on for quite half an hour.

"Oh yes, sir; they'll all be by soon," replied Johannes; and almost as he spoke the whirring sound grew fainter, fainter, and then died away.

"Hah!" ejaculated Steve, drawing a long breath. "How strange it sounded!"

He was about to say, "I am glad you were here, for it quite startled me," when the Norseman spoke:

"I remember hearing one of these night flights, sir when I was quite a lad somewhere about your age. I was out quite alone, and it frightened me so that I ran away. It was one night, and I was going straight home over the mountain when it began. First thing I did was to throw myself flat on my face; but the noise seemed to come close down to me, and I was so scared that I jumped up and began to run. But that did no good, for I started running in the same direction as the wild fowl were flying, and consequently the noise sounded as if following me, and kept on louder and louder till I reached home, dashed myself, out of breath, against the door, and rushed in to where my father and mother were sitting with the window open listening, as I thought, for me. In a moment I'd banged to and barred the door, and then I turned to my father.

"'Shut the window,' I said. 'Quick! they're coming in.'

"'What are?' said my father.

"'I don't know. I think it's a pack of wolves,' I panted as I sank in a chair. 'Get the gun.'

"'Oh yes,' said my father. 'Perhaps it is flying wolves with feathers instead of fur coats, and they were after you to eat you.'

"'Yes, father,' I said, 'I thought so.'

"'Then don't be such a bull goose again,' said my father. 'Here, mother, try and teach this boy to think better, and not go and believe that every sound he hears is all troll and hobgoblin. Feathered wolves that fly, eh, Johannes? That kind of fowl has not been hatched yet, my boy. Now, the next time you hear a flight of fowl going south in the night, you'll know better, won't you?'

"I said, 'Yes, father,' very sharply, for I was horribly ashamed of having been frightened at the flight of wild fowl; but I didn't know any better, and it was very dark, like to-night; and it is startling to hear such sounds when you don't know what they are."

"Yes, very," said Steve consciously.

"Why, if the lad Watty had been on deck, I don't know what kind of creature he would have thought it was. Hark!" he whispered, for Skene uttered another low whine. "Here they are again, sir. This frost has started them in a hurry. Yes; geese this time."

For from out of the black darkness ahead came a long-drawn, weird, clanging noise, growing louder and louder till it swept over their heads and into the distance, hushed, as it were, by the whir and whistle of the heavy pinions beating the air.

"The captain was right," said Johannes after they had listened for a time. "There is nothing like laying in a store when you have the chance. We shall have to go far enough now to pick up a few birds for some months to come."

The wild-geese flight passed over, and the walk up and down the deck was resumed; and now Steve noted that the aurora was growing paler, with the effect of making the stars shine out more brightly. Then all at once the strange glow sank down lower and lower, and then disappeared as the glow cast upon a cloud of mist disappears when the electric light is turned aside.

"Yes, it comes and goes like that," said Johannes; "and I have never known yet, sir, any one who could explain it to make it seem clear and reasonable to me. But it is very good."

"Good! What does it do?"

"Gives us light through the long, black winter, sir, when we're glad of anything that brightens the sky where there is no sun. Hark! That's not birds."

Skene had heard it, and he emitted a deep growl now at the long, low noise faintly heard, apparently from the valley by the glacier.

"What is it?" whispered Steve. "There it is again. Why, it must be wolves. There, that sounds like two or three!"

"And I should say it was the cry of wolves, sir, if there are any. But we have not seen a sign."

"No, not even a fox."

"But there are deer," said Johannes; "and where there are deer you generally find wolves to prey upon them. Yes, the cold weather is bringing them now. It must be wolves."



CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

PREPARING FOR THE ENEMY.

"Well, Johannes, what do you say to this?" said the captain, when he appeared on deck the next morning—a natural morning Steve called it, for there had been darkness once more in the night.

"Winter's coming, sir," replied the Norseman, as he glanced round him at the dark, clear, metal-like ice which spread from shore to shore, and looked strong enough to bear.

"Yes, but has it come? Surely this will melt before sunset, and we shall have some mild weather ere the cold regularly sets in?"

"If we were two or three hundred miles farther south, sir," replied the man, "I could answer you; but who can tell what the weather is likely to be up here, where man has had no experience. We can only wait and see."

They waited; and for a fortnight longer the ice which formed in the night melted in the day. Then came one that was dull and sunless, when the ice did not melt, and they had a fall of snow. That night the ice more than doubled in thickness, and they started ashore next morning for a good long tramp eastward, drawing a light sledge bearing provisions, and ready for the carriage of any game that might be shot.

This was a new experience, for winter garments were now worn, with heavy boots and mittens, fur caps, and eye-protectors. The snow filled up the inequalities of the ground, and the sledge glided easily upon its runners; but its load was soon increased, for the walking was heavy, and as the sun shone out the men were glad to pile their heavy coats upon the light framework and walk without them.

The scene was brilliant, and every here and there they found traces of animals, of whose presence they would otherwise have been ignorant. Skene was the first to notice footprints, snuffling loudly and growling, and setting up his fur about his neck, according to his custom when he smelt an enemy; and upon these tracks being examined, they proved to be similar to those which would be made by a dog with thick claws and very hairy feet.

"Wolves," said Johannes directly. "Those which you heard the other night, Mr Steve."

A sharp look-out was kept for these visitors, but none were seen. Soon after, though, they came upon the fresh-looking footprints of a bear— marks so big that they indicated an animal of large size. But the beast which printed the long marks had gone toward the shore, and though arms were kept ready for instant use, they marched on seeing nothing but the dazzling snow.

After a time the doctor called a halt and gave orders. "Spectacles at once," he said, "or I shall be having cases of snow-blindness to attend."

So eye-protectors were mounted, and the party moved on again, the captain choosing a fresh direction, one not previously tried, and, in spite of the heavy walking, as there was no halting to track game, they made plenty of progress, getting miles beyond any point previously reached before they stopped to attack the provisions and rest.

It was intensely cold, but the sun shone brilliantly, and there was not a breath of air; so that the great lowering of the temperature was not unpleasant, especially as the exertion had sent the blood racing through their veins, while the novel aspect of the scene was full of interest for Steve. The peaks glittered in the new-fallen snow, and, look where they would, it was at a world of dazzling whiteness, save where the shadows and valley-like rifts in the mountain-sides appeared to be of a delicate blue.

"We must take advantage of all the light now, Steve," said the captain, "and make expeditions inland whenever it is possible. We might pick out a few places and make caches of provision, so as to get farther out each time. But it is more from a sense of duty than anything else. We must feel that we have done everything possible to find our friends."

"Yes, sir. Why not make our way right across?"

"Across where?"

"The island to the farther shore, and then work right round the coast, and come up again on our side."

"For several reasons, my lad," said Captain Marsham, smiling. "It would be very risky to take the men so far from our headquarters, not knowing how soon we may be attacked by a terrible storm. We do not know that we are upon an island with a farther shore. And it would be impossible to make such a journey as you propose. Are these reasons enough?"

"Plenty, sir. Are we going any farther?"

"No. We have got by the days of endless light, my lad, and I don't wish for us to be benighted out in these snowy valleys."

So the captain gave the word to turn back, and they reached the ship just at dusk, after a most uneventful journey, not having encountered a single head of game.

The next morning they found that more snow had fallen, and the deck had to be cleared. There was not the most remote prospect now of doing more that season, so the boats were made snug and covered; and as there was no likelihood of the ship moving in a drift, so set fast was she in the ice, the men were now started to rig up an awning like the roof of a hut and completely cover in the deck. This was worked at with a will, till a double thickness of canvas was spread, and over that tarpaulins.

"Keep some of the cold out, eh, doctor?"

"Yes," said that gentleman; "and I suppose in a night or two you'll have snow over it to keep us warmer."

"It is probable. Wonderful how rapidly we are settling down into winter. A long one, too," he added in a low voice. "Can you keep us all in good health till the summer comes again?"

"It depends more upon yourselves than upon me," said Mr Handscombe sharply. "Keep every one so busy that he gets tired and has no time to think."

"I mean to," said the captain quietly. "There will be enough to keep them pretty well employed in getting and sleighing over to here all the coal I hope to have on board—enough, that is, to make up for all that is gone, and so as to give us an ample supply to keep our stoves burning as much as we like."

"Well," said the doctor, "with plenty of work, plenty to eat and drink, and the means of keeping up bonny fires, I do not see why we should not pass through the winter pleasantly enough. The darkness will be depressing when it comes, but the men will have grown pretty well accustomed to it; for it comes on, I suppose, so thoroughly by degrees. Let's see, how long will it be perfectly dark?"

"Not at all, I hope," said Captain Marsham. "Nature counteracts a great deal of the gloom by the brilliancy of stars and moon, and the reflection from the dazzlingly white earth. Then, too, I suppose we shall have the aurora pretty often."

"But for how long does the sun disappear entirely?"

"About eighteen weeks," said the captain. "Once it has reached its farthest point to the south I don't care, for then it will be journeying back to us. Our task seems to be to keep the men in good heart up to the shortest day; after that we can manage."

Days passed with a fair amount of sunshine, and then came a week of storm, the wind giving them a taste or two of what might be expected later; and the snow fell heavily, loading down the great tent-like arrangement over the deck to such an extent that the men were busily employed rigging up the extra spars and spare yards as rafters and ridge-poles, to help bear the strain put upon the ropes; and then all knew that there was to be no autumn, for the brief northern summer gave place at one bound to winter.

After the storm the snow was piled and drifted up round and about the bows to such an extent that in one place there was a complete slope from the top of the bulwark, and the snow lay deep upon the ice, though here and there a few passages were left where the wind had swept the surface pretty clear; and as the day was fairly bright and the way open in the direction of the narrow, jagged rift, it was decided to take advantage of the opportunity and have a trip through the gorge to the seashore.

Anticipating that the zigzagging, canal-like waterway would be too slightly frozen in so sheltered a spot to bear a party of men, a boat was run down the snow-slope on to the ice, and then skated along on the iron of the keel where the snow was absent, and driven over or through it when it lay deep. The men took to the task readily, the dog entered into the excitement of the business, and Steve followed sedately enough with the captain and doctor, envying Watty his spirits, for the lad had permission to accompany the party, and he was revelling in the excitement of a day's freedom from the slavery of the galley. The men, too, thoroughly enjoyed their task, dragging and pushing with plenty of cheering as they got the boat through some great snow-wreath which barred their way to the chasm-like opening in the side of the fiord.

"Black water—no ice!" cried Steve, who made his way to the front when they were nearly across.

"Na, tat's not watter," said Watty, who had followed him. "She's a' ice."

"Nonsense! Look how clear it is!" cried Steve. "It must be water."

But as he reached the entrance he had to alter his opinion, for the black-looking water proved to be perfectly solid; and Watty dashed on, slid some distance, and ended by jumping upon it.

"Tak' car', laddie!" cried Andrew; "ef she gangs through she'll hae to stay."

But there was no fear, and the boat was left upright in a snow-drift, the provisions packed on the little hand-sleigh brought as well, and the journey commenced through the chasm. At first every one proceeded cautiously, expecting moment by moment to hear a sharp crack; but after a few minutes confidence was felt in the strength of the ice, and all stepped out boldly.

"Hadn't we better have brought the boat, after all, sir?" Steve asked the captain. "There'll be open water as soon as we are through, and we might get a seal or two, if we didn't get a walrus."

"If the water is frozen in this sheltered passage, my lad," replied the captain, "there is no fear about the water on the other side."

"What! you think it would be frozen?"

"Certainly. I expect we shall find the open sheet of water along the shore frozen from side to side."

"Then there'll be no walrus?"

"Not one."

"Nor seals?"

"I don't expect we shall see anything now for months but bears, wolves, and foxes. Beside them, we shall be the only occupants of the place. I have not seen a bird for days."

It proved as the captain had said, for as soon as they were well through the narrow passage there lay the ice to right and left, and not a patch of open water was to be seen. Winter had set in indeed, and after a long tramp without seeing a single animal the party retraced their steps, and returned to the ship light enough, but in excellent spirits, the inevitable being accepted; and as there was an abundant supply of food in store, the absence of game in boat and sleigh, though it made Mr Lowe smile, was deemed to be of not the slightest consequence.

The next day the coaling began, the men being divided into four parties, one to hew down the coal on the mountain-side, another to collect and pass it down to the sledges, and the other two parties to draw the loaded and empty sledges to and fro. The mineral fuel was abundant, and the men worked so well that very soon the beaten track through the snow was blackened with dust and small fragments of coal; while, after this had been kept on for a week, the men treating the dirty job as quite a frolic, Steve felt that the sooner another fall of snow came down the better for the face of nature. He was not kept long waiting, for the second night after the captain had been satisfied that no more coal could be stored with any convenience down came the storm again, lasting a couple of days, and the last hope of the weather becoming open that season departed.

"No, sir," said Johannes; "the winter has come, and means to stay."

"Right on through the long, black darkness when there is no sun," said Steve with a slight shiver, and he went and looked at the glass.

The doctor saw him go, and joined him. "Down to zero, my lad," he said. "That would make people at home stare. But it's only the mercury that's down to zero; our spirits must be up to a thoroughly genial height."

Steve nodded, but he could not help a curious sensation of awe creeping over him as once more he thought of the coming six months, during which they would almost have bidden good-bye to the sun.

"I can't quite think how we shall do without any light, Mr Handscombe," said Steve quietly.

"Nor I neither, my lad; but experientia docet, as the Latin folk used to say."

"But doctors should not," said the captain merrily, as he came up. "Docet sounds suggestive from the lips of a medical man. Now, Steve, I appoint you commander-in-chief of the fires. See that they are properly kept up from now till the end of next spring."

"If spring there be," said the doctor. "I expect that we shall step from winter into summer, as we did from summer to winter; but we shall see."

"Yes," said the captain, "we shall see."



CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

CHILL DAYS.

"Ha-Ha! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

A regular rollicking burst of good, sound, old-fashioned, honest, English laughter, which rang out clear, bright, and cheery in the frosty air.

"She'll pe laughin' at me, Meester Stevey?"

"Yes!" cried the lad, bursting out into another peal, in which Skene joined with a good, sound, rattling bark. "Why, even the dog can't help it. Look at him!"

"She'll pe only barkin' and not laughin'. Togs canna laugh."

"Well, they can show their teeth!" cried Steve. "Oh, I say, Watty, you do look a guy! Your mother wouldn't know you."

"Her ain mither wad ken her anywhere," said Watty proudly.

"Not like this. Why, you look like an old bear with a sheep-skin on. Why, that coat's too big for you. What have you got underneath?"

"She isna a pit too pig. She wants a muckle great-coat to keep oot the caud."

"Why, you've got a blanket on under it!"

"Ay. She chust happit a planket roond an' roond her potty, an' tied it wi' a bit o' line to keep it oop, an' she's waarm as waarm a' but her foots an' han's!"

"I should think you are," said Steve merrily. "You're as big round as a hop pocket. You can hardly move."

"Oh ay, she can move when she wants to move. Hae ye got any chilplains?"

"No, have you?"

"Cot any chilplains? Why, her han's an' foots are chust a' ane creat chilplain, an' when she kets wairm they ding an' itch till she cauld scratch awa' a' her skin."

"I'll ask Mr Handscombe to give you something for them."

"Nay, she winna tak' it. She canna' tak' pheesek."

"Nonsense! I mean to rub on."

"Oh, mebby she micht try a wee drap ootside."

"Well, how do you like having the weather so cold as this?"

"She wants to gang hame. When shall we sail back again?"

"Next summer, I hope. What nonsense! How could we sail when we're frozen up?"

"Preak a way oot. She wadna mind helping."

"You don't know what you're talking about. But I say, I wouldn't dress up so warmly as that now."

"Why, she's tressed oop wairmly!"

"I've only got this sheep-skin coat on. If you dress like this now, what will you do when it grows cold?"

"Phwat!" cried Watty excitedly. "Ye dinna mean that she can be more caud than this?"

"Yes, this is nothing. Wait a bit till the sun does not rise at all, and it's all dark, and then I s'pose it's going to be tremendously cold."

"Dinna say it, sir; dinna say it!"

"Why not? It's true enough!" cried Steve.

"Nay, she's lauchin' at her. Cauder! She could na pe mair caud than the noo."

"Oh, very well; wait and see."

"Put she's chust choking her."

"Chust choking you!" cried Steve, laughing. "I tell you it's all true."

"Hey, then, what's to pecome of her?" groaned Watty. "She couldna pear a pit mair caud, and she'll have to pe perried out here in the ice and snaw. Ye'll chust tell her ane thing, Meester Stevey. She winna lauch at her?"

"No, I won't laugh, Watty. What is it?"

"They keek oop a lot o' talk and clish ma claver aboot it kettin' dairk. Is she coing to hae ferry short days—shorter than they are the noo?"

"There'll be no days at all soon. It will all be night."

"Phwat! Dairk nicht, and no taylight at a'?"

"Not a bit. The sun will not rise at all for about eighteen weeks."

Watty looked out wildly from among the wool of the great-coat he had on and from beneath the fur of his peaked cap with quite an agonised expression.

"She isna choking her?"

"No, I told you I would not."

"The sun winna coom oop at a'?"

"No, not at all for eighteen weeks. It will be all night."

"Then ta wairld's going to be at an eend?"

"Nonsense! No."

"Then the sun's coing oot?"

"Not a bit of it."

"Then whar she coing to?"

"Down toward the South Pole."

"She canna understan' it," said Watty piteously. "She thocht it was a' talk to frechten her. Then we shall nivver see the sun any more?"

"Of course we shall. There'll be eighteen weeks without it, and then it will begin to get lighter again more and more, till the sun keeps up in the sky like it did when we came up here just now. You understand?"

"Nay, she dinna understan' it a pit."

"But you saw that the sun did not set for a long time?"

"Yes, she saw tat; but she nivver understood it a pit."

"Well, it is puzzling," said Steve. "It took me some time to get it into my head, but I do pretty well understand it now. Why, Watty, if we stood at the North Pole at midsummer, we should see the sun go round and round in the sky, and then every day get a little lower and a little lower, till it was only just in sight; and then still lower, till it disappeared altogether."

"Does she mean went oot o' sicht a' thegither?"

"Yes."

"And wad she hae to stan' recht o' the top o' the pole to see tat?"

"No, at the Pole. You don't think there's a wooden pole there, do you?"

"Ay. Andra says she's a creat pig pole, an' ta wairld turns roond and roond upon her."

"The world turns round and round; but there's no wooden pole, only one spot they call the Pole."

"An' ye can see the sun go roond like tat, Meester Stevey?"

"You could if you could get there. Nobody has ever been so far north. I don't think anybody has been so far before as this."

"Then how do they know?"

"Oh, by calculations and books."

"She dinna pelieve it."

"Oh, it's quite true, though."

"What, tat ta sun coes roond like tat?"

"Yes, I'm not deceiving you. Don't you believe me?"

"Oh ay, she pelieves pecause she knows she's a chentleman; and when a chentleman says onything is true she is quite true."

"Thank you," said Steve, smiling. "Put if ta sun coes on like tat, an' she's squirming oop an' squirming doon, she's cot something wrong wi' her wairks."

Steve laughed.

"Ay, put it's naething to lauch aboot, Meester Stevey. Thenk o' the sun coing quite oot for eighteen weeks. Oh, it's a waefu' place. What'll we do when it's a' nicht?"

"Go to sleep like the bears do, and have a good long rest."

"Go to sleep for eighteen weeks!" cried Watty in horror. "Why, she'd nivver wak' ony mair!"

"Oh yes, you would; and besides, it will not be quite dark. There'll be the moon and stars and the aurora."

"She dinna ken onything apoot the roarer. Will she mak' it licht?"

"Yes, beautifully."

"Hey, but caud as it is the noo?"

"Much colder," cried Steve.

"Then she'll chust lie doon and dee," said Watty piteously, "for she canna bear to thenk upo' it. Cauder than it is the noo, an' her han's and foots like they are. Why, she'd be a' one creat chilplain ivery wha'! What wad her mither say if she knew?"

The lads were out on the trampled snow about a hundred yards from the Hvalross, which looked, with its snow-covered roofing, like some long, low house, out of which three tall masts had grown. And as they were talking a hail came from the canvas-covered doorway at the top of the gangway.

The resemblance to a low, long house was increased by the iron chimneys rising out through the snow and the big funnel of the boiler, from all of which black smoke was issuing; for, the ample supply of coal being so near, Captain Marsham had the engine furnace kept going for the sake of the heat given by the boilers, as well as from the fire itself. In fact, the engine-room and stoke-hole became favourite places with the men of an evening before bed, or after a long tramp round somewhere through the snow; for, now that they were fairly started in their battle with the arctic winter, the weather had to be very bad, and the wind very keen, for the crew to be kept out of their daily exercise.

The loud hail came from the doorway, and a curious-looking figure like a diver in a fur suit came down the well-made flight of ice steps, and advanced to join the two lads. The resemblance to a diver increased as it drew nearer, for the face was almost completely hidden by the visor-like arrangement of the round, helmet-shaped cap, and in place of a visor's bars there were two large, round green-glass goggles which glistened in a peculiar manner when the object advanced, as if he were not only a diver, but a steam diver who was moved by some internal machinery which caused him to emit little puffs of steam at breathing intervals.

"Morning, Mr Handscombe," cried Steve as he drew near.

"Morning, my lad; but look here, you are doing a very foolish thing. We're below zero, and yet you're standing about here talking as if it were summer."

"We haven't felt the cold, sir."

"The more likely for the cold to be dangerous for you, my lad. A frost-bite comes on without the sufferer knowing about it, the cold making the part quite insensible to pain, and a bad bite may mean utter destruction of the tissue and the loss of even hands and feet."

"Phwat!" cried Watty, forgetting his awe of the doctor in the horror of the announcement; "wad a man who was frost-bit lose her han's or her foots?"

"Yes, if it were a bad case of freezing."

"An' wad her han's or foots tummle off?"

"More likely the patient's medical attendant would have to cut them off."

"Coot her han's an foots off? What wi'—chopper?"

"No," said the doctor, smiling at the lad's horrified looks; "they would be carefully taken off with a knife and saw. Surgeons are very careful."

Watty groaned.

"It's a' ower wi' her, Meester Stevey, an' she's ferry sorry she's iver fote and ca'd her, for she'll nivver see bonnie Scotland more."

"Why not? What's the matter with you, my lad?" said the doctor.

"She's ferry pad, sir. Poth her foots an' poth her han's is frost-pitten."

"What! and you did not tell me? Here, come back to the ship, and let me have a look."

"Na, na, na; she'll na gang wi' ye!" cried Watty.

"But if they are frost-bitten I can perhaps do them good, and save you from a very bad injury. Come along."

"Na, na; she'll keep her han's an' foots on as lang as she can," groaned the lad. "She winna let her tooch them."

"Don't be absurd!" said the doctor angrily. "Steve, did you know of this?"

"No, sir," said the boy, fighting hard to conceal his mirth.

"I ought to have been told. Here, come along. Stop!"

"Ay, she'll stop; she winna gang wi' ye."

"Are your feet really bad?"

"Ay, sir; but she shanna tooch them."

"You have no business to walk," said the doctor. "I must have you carried, sir."

"Na, na; she'll stay here."

"Bah! don't be absurd, boy. I know what is best for you. Here, Steve, my lad, go and fetch two of the men to carry him in. I'm glad I heard of this in time."

"Dinna gang, Meester Stevey; oh, dinna gang!" cried Watty.

"I must; I'm ordered to go," cried Steve quickly, as he ran back to the ship, and then hunted out Andrew and Hamish from the forecastle to come and bear the lad to the deck.

"She wass ferry well at breakfast," said Andrew. "She must ha' been eating something since then," for Andrew's ideas of illness were always in connection with eating or drinking too much. "Phwat will she say's the matter?"

"He told the doctor he was very bad," replied Steve, "and you're to carry him."

"She wass ferry sorry for the puir laddie, and she'll carry her on her pack."

But Andrew was not allowed to carry Watty in on his "pack," but under the doctor's instructions, and, in spite of the lad's remonstrances, they passed hands under him, made him throw his arms over their shoulders, and prepared to start.

"She winna go!" cried Watty, struggling faintly.

"Take no notice of him," said the doctor; "he must be carried in at once. Now off!"

Poor Watty was borne to the snow steps which rose right up to the gangway, carried in, and no sooner were they upon the gloomy deck, where they had to depend now for light upon a couple of swinging lanthorns, than the captain met them.

The place was quite misty with the men's breath, which hung about like steam, in spite of the efforts made to keep the place warm; and things looked quite indistinct, especially about Watty, who had had to resign himself to his fate, and lay where he was placed upon the deck.

"What is it—a fall?" cried the captain; "broken leg?"

"No, frost-bitten," said the doctor laconically. "Take off that fur coat, my lads."

The huge sheep-skin coat was opened and drawn from Watty's shoulders, leaving visible one of the blankets from his bunk doubled and rolled round him tightly, and held by a stout piece of cord that looked wonderfully like a portion of a walrus line.

"Watty laddie," said Hamish, "she meant to keep hersel' wairm," and the men about laughed, all but Johannes and his companions, who were perfectly serious.

"Ay, she tid: ferry wairm as efer wass," added Andrew. "Is it her nose?"

"That will do, my men; let me come," said the doctor, kneeling down and hastily drawing off the big fur glove that Watty wore on his right hand, in spite, too, of a good deal of resistance on the lad's part.

"Dinna lat him coot it off, Meester Stevey, sir," he whispered. "Her mither wadna ken her if she went back to Ardnachree gin she had nae airms and legs."

"Humph! dear me!" said the doctor; "bring that lanthorn closer. Very red and inflamed, but that one's not frost-bitten."

He held the hand close to the lanthorn, which was lowered by Andrew, and then knocked sidewise, for the lad sprang up sitting.

"Then she wadna chop it off?"

"No, no; lie still!" cried the doctor testily.

"You had better hold him, my lads," said the captain; and Hamish and Andrew held him down again, bringing forth a fierce growl from Skene, who seemed to feel that if there was a struggle on he ought to be in it.

"Down, Skeny!" said Steve sharply; and the dog uttered an uneasy whine.

"Here, let me see the other hand," cried the doctor.

"Na, that one's the waur!" cried Watty excitedly. "She's nae waur than this or my puir foots."

"No nonsense," said the doctor; and he firmly but gently held the boy's other red and swollen hand to the light of the lanthorn.

"Frost-bitten?" said the captain; but the doctor did not answer save by a grunt.

"Ane's waur than t'ither," whimpered Watty.

"And now about your feet, my lad," cried the doctor.

"Oh, they're nane so bad as my han's, sir; only dings and tangs o' nichts."

"There, get up, you young impostor!" cried the doctor, rising. "Frost-bitten?" he added, turning to the captain. "Nothing but a few chilblains. Here, you Steve," he continued, button-holing the lad, "did you know there was nothing the matter but chilblains?"

"He told me his hands and feet were frost-bitten," said Steve.

"Yes, but you knew better, sir," said the doctor, who had hold of the boy's arm and was marching him toward the cabin stairs.

"Well, I—" began Steve.

"Of course," cried the doctor. "I saw the twinkle in your eye, my lad. Look here, don't you play tricks with doctors; they get such chances for serving you out."

"I suppose I ought to have spoken," said Steve; "but it seemed so comic to see him so sure that he was frost-bitten, and it's such a long time since we had a laugh that—"

"Let it rest, Handscombe," said Captain Marsham good-humouredly. "Steve says it is a long time since he had a hearty laugh."

"What!" cried the doctor. "Why, I heard him roaring with laughter not above an hour ago."

Steve looked confused.

"Of course," he said, colouring. "I'd forgotten that."

"There, we don't want any apologies, my boy," said the captain. "Keep up your spirits, and other people's if you can. I want every one to have a good store of health and strength before the long night comes."



CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

A NOCTURNAL VISITOR.

And that long night which was on everybody's lips, and when silent in everybody's mind, was coming on surely and gradually, but to all on board the Hvalross very fast; for the captain never let the men rest. After every heavy fall of snow—and these came at shorter intervals—the crew were set to work banking it up against the sides of the ship.

"But it will make it so much colder," Steve protested.

"No, my lad, so much warmer," said the captain. "Do you know what is our greatest enemy here that we shall have to fight?"

"Yes, the bears. They'll smell the meat—Johannes said so; and you're making an extremely easy way up to the deck."

"Well, yes, if they come. But if they do, we must be ready for them. We can keep them off from our fortress, I daresay. But that was not the enemy I meant."

"Oh, I see; you mean the cold."

"Yes, my boy; but in one form. I mean the wind. I daresay we could stand thirty degrees below zero without wind better than we could stand zero with wind. That is the enemy we have to fight against. The still cold will not affect us like the storms."

And so it passed, day after day. The men were out hunting one morning, when it was the coldest by the thermometer they had yet felt; but no one suffered. The men came back with their beards quite masses of ice, but the exercise in the still air kept them all aglow; while the very next day they had a walk along the lane they had trampled down in the snow as far as the piled-up ice-floe which had shut them up in the peaceful fiord, and coming back they had to face a piercing north wind which carried with it a fine snow-dust which seemed to cut into the skin.

"The coldest day we have had yet," said the doctor as they stepped on deck; but the captain went at once to the instruments which were placed ready for taking the observations duly entered in a journal, and turned back, shaking his head.

"Twenty degrees warmer than it was yesterday."

"You amaze me," said Mr Handscombe. "I never felt it so cold before."

"He meant twenty degrees not quite so cold, sir," said Steve, who was rubbing and beating his half-numbed hands. "It isn't warmer."

The wind dropped at sundown, if it could be called sundown, when that day they had only had some hours of glow over the icy rampart that shut them in. Then in the darkening sky the stars began to peer out one by one, till, as the sky grew perfectly black, the heavens were one blaze of glittering splendour.

"Why, the stars seem double the size that they are at home," said Steve, as he stood out on the snow steps for a little while before retiring to rest. "The sky looks so transparent, too, just as if you were peeping right in amongst them. Look, look!"

He pointed at that which the others saw as soon as he, for a brilliant meteor suddenly flashed into sight, formed an arc in the sky, and disappeared, leaving a thin line of sparks behind it for a moment or two before they died out.

"What was that?" cried Steve.

"A meteor," said the captain. "One of the little bodies which astronomers say burst into light in passing through our atmosphere. But come; the fireside is the best place on a night like this."

They retired to the cabin, after carefully tying the points of the canvas down; and, after a walk right forward by the dim light of the lanthorns to see that the men were all comfortable and well, the trio returned to the cabin, where the stove was crackling and roaring, and the hanging lamp, books, papers, and chess-board looked cheery and home-like.

Skene followed them and stood at the door in a deprecating fashion, slowly waving his plume-like tail from side to side, and looking, Steve said, as if he would come in and stay if he were asked.

"Yes, come in," said the captain.

The dog entered with a bound, and couched instantly at the front of the stove.

"It's getting intensely cold now," said the captain, taking up the log-book to make an entry or two.

"I thought so," said the doctor; "but after my experience of this afternoon I was afraid I might be wrong again. What do you say, Steve?"

"I think it's as cold as we've had it, sir. We can see our breath here before this hot fire."

"Look here!" exclaimed Captain Marsham, as he sat, pen in hand, examining the inkstand.

"What's the matter? No ink?"

"Ink? Yes; but look here—frozen, and in this cabin!"

There was the fact; the ink-glass was partly full of splinters and scales of ice, while the bottom was like thick, melted black snow.

"Well, we can't have it any colder than that, can we?" asked Steve; and then he started, for Skene suddenly sprang to his feet, his hair rose about his throat, and he uttered a low growl.

"What does he hear?" said the captain, after placing the ink to thaw.

"I know," cried Steve, "though I didn't hear it. Andra must have got out his pipes, and is playing what he calls a chune."

"Very likely," said the captain, turning the ink.

"He doesn't like it," continued Steve. "I wonder any one can bear the noise."

"Tastes differ, my lad," said the captain. "The men seem to like the sounds on these long, dark nights. I wish we had some one who could play the fiddle, too."

"Johannes can, and he has one with him," said Steve eagerly.

"That's good news, for I want the lads to enjoy themselves, and a little music is the very thing for them. Quiet, dog, quiet! if you mean to stay here."

For Skene had gone excitedly to the closed door, placed his nose to the crack at the bottom, and growled fiercely.

"It isn't the pipes," said Steve, springing up. "He hears something. What is it, Skene?"

"R-rr-rr-ra!" growled the dog in low, menacing tones.

"Now, doctor," said the captain, setting the example of taking his double gun from the rack and slinging his cartridge-bag over his shoulder.

The doctor followed the captain's lead, and Steve stepped to the slings on the other side for his.

"Coats on," said the captain; "it's bitter out on the deck. Keep him quiet, Steve!"

Steve patted and whistled to the dog, who gave his tail a slow sweep from side to side, and then stood ready for action, while coats and caps were donned, and cartridges slipped into the breeches of the pieces. The captain laid his hand upon the door and was about to open it, when there was a gentle tap, and the light shone full upon the face of Johannes.

"What's the matter?" asked the captain sharply. "A bear, I think, sir," said the Norseman in a low voice. "The scent of these animals is very fine, and the smell of the cooking has brought him perhaps. But it is very dark, and I'm not sure, sir. I hope it is not a false alarm. You heard it, then?" he said, as it seemed only then to strike him that the party had risen to go out on deck.

"Skeny heard something and growled!" cried Steve. "Then there is one, gentlemen," said the man quietly. "Will you come round and listen?"

A word or two given in an impressive whisper to the dog silenced him, and he followed as if knowing his business exactly—that is, to steal up to the quarry and wait patiently until the fighting began and his pent-up excitement could have full play.

Johannes led, and they all walked slowly along the port side of the deck, which looked dark and impressive with only one lanthorn burning close to the galley door. The canvas sides of the long, tent-like awning bulged in here and there as they passed some shroud or stay, and the roof hung low in places where the snow lay particularly heavy, while the cold that struck to them now in leaving the warm cabin was terrible. Every breath Steve drew felt as if it were charged with tiny needles, which tingled in his nostrils. A thick mist formed about them, and when they paused close to the lanthorn to listen for a minute the vapour of their breath rose and then fell down again in soft specks which the lad did not understand for the moment, and then saw to be tiny flakes of snow. But all was still save a murmur which came up from the closely shut engine-room hatch, where the men had collected about the glowing fire kept up without stint.

Johannes went on round by the bows, and all followed, Steve shivering with cold and excitement; but they passed along, going aft now, close by the canvas wall, till they reached the cabin door again without a sound being heard.

"False alarm, Johannes?" whispered the captain.

The man smiled, and pointed to the dog, whose ears were twitching, and now standing up, bent forward, now lowered down, while his tail was waving slowly, and his muzzle was in the air with the nostrils distended.

"Skeny says there's a bear or something about," said Steve softly.

The dog turned to his master sharply upon hearing his name.

"Where is it, Skeny?" whispered the boy, dropping on one knee with his arm on the dog's neck.

There was a low growl, and the dog ran back a dozen steps, and stood listening and twitching his ears as he gazed at one part of the canvas wall. They followed, and stood beside him, but all was perfectly quiet, the silence being strangely impressive in that intense misty cold. Then all at once there was a sound like a deep sigh, followed by a snuffling noise, and directly after the canvas wall was pressed in just above the bulwark. It was exactly as if some man of gigantic size was feeling over the canvas for a way in, his nails now scratching against it heavily. But the tough canvas did not tear, for it was thickly coated with ice caused by the condensation of breath, and moisture from without, freezing into a hard, thick mass. But it cracked and snapped and bent in, so that at any moment there was the possibility of its giving way.

"Lanthorn, quick!" said the captain; and as Johannes brought it the captain's and doctor's pieces clicked; while, as soon as the light was held well up, they calculated as nearly as they could where the bear's breast would be and fired together.

A savage roar followed the reports, there was a scrambling rush, and then a great rustling; and as the men came running up excitedly the dog seemed to consider that he was free, and set up a furious barking as he ran to the tied-up canvas door by the gangway, and stood gazing at his master, waiting to be let out.

"Hit, and scared away," said the captain, re-loading. "Shall we go out and see?" said the doctor. "No, not till daylight," replied the captain; "it is too risky to go out in the darkness. We can track it through the snow in the morning. Quiet the dog, Steve, my lad. There, go below, my lads; the cold here is terrible. Good-night."

Talking eagerly about this interruption the men hurried below, and as soon as the hatch was closed sounds arose which made Skene whine and Steve stop his ears as he hurried into the warm cabin; for Andrew had taken his pipes, and was making them skirl and drone in honour of the victory.



CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

IN THE STERN GRIP.

Steve slept soundly that night, and woke to find the blanket, pulled up close to his ears, stiff with hoar-frost, and the stinging, prickling sensation in his nostrils more acute than ever. There was no time spent in dressing, and all were soon ready for the breakfast brought in by the cook, who was loud in complaints about the way in which everything froze in the galley, even when the fire was roaring in the stove. But he was pretty cheerful, for he was a busy man with certain daily duties, whereas tasks had to be made for the men, who, on account of the intense cold and the solitary safety of their position, were not now even set to keep any of the regular watches.