The dog did not stir till his master bent down and touched him, when he started into wakefulness, got up stiffly, shook himself and made his ears rattle, and then yawned in a very human way.
“Come along, then,” cried Steve, starting to follow the rest, and the dog wagged his tail and began to trot to his side, but in a lame, stiff fashion.
Just then, though, he caught sight of the great carcass of the bear. Up went the hair about his throat and neck; he gave a fierce growl, forgot his lameness, and dashed at the bear’s throat, stuck his teeth into it, and tried to give it a shake; then, loosening his hold reluctantly, he followed his master to the boat, which soon after reached the side of the Hvalross, where the cook announced the meal to be in perfect readiness, and to it tremendous justice was done.
“Seems nonsense to go to bed now, doesn’t it?” said Steve, as they returned on deck to see the island beginning to grow distant as the vessel steamed slowly north-north-east, about a mile away from the solid blue-and-silver wall of ice on their left.
“Yes,” said the doctor quietly; “but we must have rest. All this has come upon you so suddenly, because we have been shut up so long in that terrible fog.”
“But we’re leaving Jan Mayen for good, then?”
“Yes; there was nothing to stay for.”
“And if we keep right on like this, where shall we go to next?”
“Come, come,” said the doctor playfully; “you ought to know the chart. I can tell you that.”
“I know I ought to be able to say,” replied Steve, with his brow wrinkled again; “but I’m puzzled, sir. I don’t seem to have grasped it yet. Where are we making for?”