“Where is it, Skeny?” whispered the boy, dropping on one knee with his arm on the dog’s neck.

There was a low growl, and the dog ran back a dozen steps, and stood listening and twitching his ears as he gazed at one part of the canvas wall. They followed, and stood beside him, but all was perfectly quiet, the silence being strangely impressive in that intense misty cold. Then all at once there was a sound like a deep sigh, followed by a snuffling noise, and directly after the canvas wall was pressed in just above the bulwark. It was exactly as if some man of gigantic size was feeling over the canvas for a way in, his nails now scratching against it heavily. But the tough canvas did not tear, for it was thickly coated with ice caused by the condensation of breath, and moisture from without, freezing into a hard, thick mass. But it cracked and snapped and bent in, so that at any moment there was the possibility of its giving way.

“Lanthorn, quick!” said the captain; and as Johannes brought it the captain’s and doctor’s pieces clicked; while, as soon as the light was held well up, they calculated as nearly as they could where the bear’s breast would be and fired together.

A savage roar followed the reports, there was a scrambling rush, and then a great rustling; and as the men came running up excitedly the dog seemed to consider that he was free, and set up a furious barking as he ran to the tied-up canvas door by the gangway, and stood gazing at his master, waiting to be let out.

“Hit, and scared away,” said the captain, re-loading. “Shall we go out and see?” said the doctor. “No, not till daylight,” replied the captain; “it is too risky to go out in the darkness. We can track it through the snow in the morning. Quiet the dog, Steve, my lad. There, go below, my lads; the cold here is terrible. Good-night.”

Talking eagerly about this interruption the men hurried below, and as soon as the hatch was closed sounds arose which made Skene whine and Steve stop his ears as he hurried into the warm cabin; for Andrew had taken his pipes, and was making them skirl and drone in honour of the victory.


Chapter Thirty Eight.

In the Stern Grip.