“He’s been cruising along the coast,” said Rob; “but this is a two-hatch bidarka, so probably he’s got a partner somewhere around.”
“Maybe he’s up at our house now stealing everything we left there,” suggested Jesse.
“Yes, and maybe it’s his house that we’ve moved into,” added John.
Rob, the older of the boys, and the one on whose judgment they had come to rely, remained silent a moment.
“Boys,” said he, at last, “this fellow looks like mischief to me. We can’t let him go away, to come back after awhile and rob us. We can’t leave his gun here with him and go on with our work. The only thing we can do is to take him in charge for a while.”
“Let me get his gun away from him,” began John.
Possibly the Aleut understood some of this, for all at once he made a sudden spring and caught at his gun.
Quick as a flash Rob covered him with his own rifle. “No, you don’t,” he said; “drop it! That settles it for you!”
Again the Aleut seemed to understand, for he stood up, tried to smile again, and once more held out his hand.
“Take his gun and chuck it in the boat, Jess,” commanded Rob. “Now you mush on!” he ordered the Aleut, pointing to the carcass of the bear. (“Mush on,” in Alaska dog-train vernacular, means “march on,” being a corruption from the French word marchons.)