“Whew!” gasped Bobby. “That was one close call, all right. Never knew a walrus had that much fight in him.”
“Good thing he didn’t fall into the boat,” remarked Billy. “If he had, there wouldn’t have been a square inch of us left to tell the tale.”
“Not bad sign—meet walrus,” said Mooloo suddenly, and the boys looked at him quickly. It was the first time their guide had spoken since he had told them they were lost and they thought they detected a more hopeful note in his voice.
“Not a bad sign—what do you mean?” asked Bobby, his heart leaping with hope.
“Walrus no go far from shore,” Mooloo explained. “We near shore—near ship, maybe. We see.”
Although the boys tried not to hope too much from this encouragement, they were encouraged, just the same. They knew that the Eskimo would have said nothing if he had not been pretty sure of himself.
And then suddenly there arose, directly in front of them, another grim shape and, thinking they had met with a real iceberg this time, they called out to Mooloo to turn aside.
For answer the Eskimo gave a triumphant grunt and—kept right on.
Then the boys saw that it was not an iceberg after all, but the shadowy hull of a ship—a wrecked ship—undoubtedly the treasure ship.
They felt a wild desire to shout aloud with joy, but somehow they managed to sit quiet, keeping a tight grip upon themselves. To show too much enthusiasm would be fatal. Mooloo might guess at their real business there. If he did, what then?