“Oh yes,” said the doctor, laughing; “and I shall be very glad to get my dinner—supper, I mean—and then go. So let’s get back on board.”
But Steve did not move for a minute or two. He stood staring at the sun, beneath which the ice was glittering, while the snow upon the mountains flashed and looked more beautiful than ever. At last he shouldered his gun.
“I’m very stupid, I suppose,” he said at last, as he looked from one to the other. “I learned all about it at school, and I suppose I knew all this; but now I’m right amongst it everything seems puzzling. I can’t understand how this can be night; but it will all come right by-and-by.”
“Of course,” said the captain, smiling; “but it looks as if the dog understands what puzzles you.”
Steve looked round.
“Why, he’s asleep.”
“Yes; and look about you. Where are the birds? I don’t see one on the wing.”
“There are thousands up yonder on the ledges,” said Steve, pointing to the lines of black-backed and white-breasted puffins and grey gulls.
“Yes, my lad; but they’re all roosting,” said the captain. “All ready, my lads? Now, then, for the boat.”
“Here, Skeny, wake up, old chap!” cried Steve, forcing a laugh. “Sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night, but you’ll be able to see.”