“Ahoy there!” he shouted; then exultantly, but in a tone of voice which did not sound like his own, “Ice right ahead, and a signal showing about a mile away!”
“What!” shouted Captain Marsham. “Stop a minute; I’ll come up.”
He ran to the shrouds, and began to climb rapidly and as actively as either of the men till he was close beneath the great cask.
“Don’t stir, my boy,” he said; “I’ll find room for both. Now then,” he continued, as the trap beneath their feet was closed, “where’s the signal?”
“Follow the coast-line for about a mile,” cried Steve eagerly, as he handed the glass, “and you will see a great black cliff with hardly a scrap of snow upon it. Then, low down on a piece of level ground—”
“I have it!” cried the captain; “a large post.” His tone of eager satisfaction changed to one that was very solemn and grave: “It is a cross, Steve,” he said.
“Yes, a great wooden cross. Don’t you think they set it up there as a signal?”
“I think some one set it up there as a sign, my boy,” said Captain Marsham gravely.
“And that some one is living there?” cried Steve.
The captain did not answer, but changed the direction of the glass.