“Eggs? there’ll be no eggs,” said Steve; “they would all be blown away by the storm. Don’t you know that these sea-birds lay their eggs on the bare stones generally? Oh, but of course you knew that,” he added hurriedly, as it struck him that the Norseman must know ten times as much as he.
“Yes,” said Johannes quietly. “I know that, and I have also noticed how wonderfully they stay on those shelves in spite of the great winds that blow. No doubt many were blown off in the storm; but many would stay.”
“Why, do the sea-birds stick them down tight?”
“No,” said Johannes, smiling. “But you have seen the strange shape of many of the eggs of sea-birds. They are not like those of other fowls.”
“No, they’re thick at one end and very thin at the other, going off quite straight instead of being rounded.”
“That is why they stay on the rocks,” said the Norseman: “when the wind strikes them the light, thin end flies round, and they begin to spin so fast that you can hardly see them turn.”
“That’s curious,” said Steve, who looked hard at Johannes, as if ready to think that the man was telling him a travellers’ tale. But the Norseman was the last man who could be expected to indulge in fiction, and the boy hastened to ask about their prospects.
“We all feel satisfied that this place abounds with game,” said Johannes. “Jakobsen here saw a couple of bears, the seals are plentiful, and we passed yesterday enough of the walrus to feel sure that there must be plenty more.”
“Here, Steve!” cried the captain just then; “breakfast! I am going up the fiord in one of the boats directly after. Do you care to go?”
“Care to go!” cried Steve. “Oh, I say, Captain Marsham, don’t leave me behind in any of your trips.”