“Don’t you call me no names!” began Abram loudly.
“Shut your head!” cried the sailor imperiously. “By George, you make a man sick with all your nasty blowing. Fill your sack, and shut up!”
Silence followed, broken by light thuds in quick succession. A shadow heaved athwart the glow, in a thin white cloud of steaming breath. It was Tony, with some shapeless burden in his arms.
“Come along,” he said.
A second shadow rose, and stooped toward the lantern, grumbling.
“I don’t tromp down them rocks no more ’thout a light.”
“Let it stay!” roared Tony. “How many times must I tell you? We can’t go showing lights on that beach. Drop it! You can see to cross the clearing, and that’s enough. Next time, by thunder, you’ll want me to carry you!”
They moved off, growling, round the twisted spur of the snow-bank. The night swallowed them.
Miles gave ample time, before venturing further; then floundered on through gleaming undergrowth. The verge, however, rose impassable. A gigantic drift flung one smooth, graceful whirl round the little hollow, or bowl, in which the lantern shone. To break through would leave a tumbling track of ruin. The ring stood therefore as good as enchanted: he could only lean forward and look.
Close below lay scattered boughs of spruce or fir; and among these, half uncovered, a square chest yawned enormous, with lid thrown back. Full or empty, it showed nothing inside but darkness.