“No—no!” denied Crawford, his low word desperately urgent. “Look! We are lost——”
The gunshot had been answered by a burst of calls and shouts, so unexpected and so close that both watchers started. At once other men came into view, half a dozen of them, along the opposite ridge of ice. In a flash Crawford perceived his frightful error of calculation. The dead man had been companioned, not by Deakin alone, but by all these others!
Crawford met the crisis after his usual fashion. Setting his mouth to Frontin’s ear, ignoring the group who were swiftly descending the opposite slope toward the bodies of man and bear, he spoke rapidly.
“Keep my gun, stay hidden; be ready for anything. If I go with them, watch and get a bearing on where their ship lies. Keep the smoke-flare going from the bark. You comprehend? They know all about us, we know nothing about them. Here—take care of this paper.”
Into Frontin’s hand he thrust the paper taken from the dead man; then he rose and strode forward. He was apparently unarmed, knife and tomahawk being hidden.
As Crawford thus swung into their sight, descending from the icy ridge to the hollow, the group of men stared at him for half a moment in gaping amazement. Then their guns swung up, but he spoke out with a cool assurance that gave them pause.
“Careful, Cap’n Deakin, careful! You’re outnumbered and have stumbled into a very neat ambuscade. Ho, Frontin! Bid one of the men to fire in the air, that our good Moses may realize his position.”
“Ay, cap’n,” responded Frontin’s voice, followed by the roar of a fusil in air.
Astounded by the appearance of Crawford, finding themselves apparently surrounded by hidden foes as they huddled there in the ice-hollow, the half-dozen Boston men dared not move. They crowded around Moses Deakin, who was measuring Crawford with his bold, hard gaze. Startled though he was, the fur-pirate was unafraid.
“Well?” he demanded truculently. “Who the devil may you be, that you know my name?”