“Whew, are they like that?” cried Tom. “They look so big and clumsy in the pictures and when they’re stuffed, that I didn’t suppose they could really do much harm.”
“Wussedest critters I know,” declared Cap’n Pem, “and ye wouldn’t git me fer to hunt ’em in them there cockleshells o’ kayaks, not fer nothin’. With a good musket an’ a whaleboat ’tain’t so bad, but a bull walrus ain’t to be sneezed at, lemme tell ye!”
“All the more excitement,” laughed Tom. “I’m just crazy to go after them!”
“Guess ye mus’ be crazy to wanter,” muttered old Pem. “But long’s ye’re out fer to git adventure an’ own the consarned ol’ ship, there ain’t a mite o’ use my tellin’ ye not to.”
Jim laughed. “You know perfectly well you wouldn’t let us go and neither would Captain Edwards, if there was any real danger,” he said.
“There’s always danger on a whaler in the Arctic,” said the skipper, “but you two boys know how to shoot and ain’t reckless, and Kemp’s an old hand, and there ain’t any likelihood of your gettin’ hurt, in a good boat.”
“But there’s that there cat——” began Pem.
“Oh nonsense!” interrupted Tom. “If we go, we’re going to take that cat with us as a mascot.”
“Waall, fools will rush in, ye knows,” muttered the old whaleman as he stumped aft.
While waiting for the Eskimos to return with word as to the whereabouts of the walrus herd, the boats were lowered, the masts stepped, guns and other appliances and weapons stowed, and all prepared in readiness for the hunt. At last, after several hours wait, the boys spied the kayaks returning. As they drew near, Tom and Jim saw that the two leading craft were towing some huge object. Grasping the glasses, Tom ran up the rigging. “They’ve found them!” he cried out an instant later. “They’re bringing in the ‘sample’ just as the captain said.”