They loaded their raft without any interference from the birds, beyond the blood-curdling clamour of their angry disputations. They were quite ready to go, but still the whereabouts of the mate was a mystery, and Wulf was loth to leave it at that. He might be lying broken in some crack. If he had come to some sudden end it would be best to know it, if that were possible, so that their fears—on their own account as well as his—might be at rest. On the other hand it was quite impossible to rake over the whole pile. That would be a good month's work.
A grim idea shot suddenly into Wulf's mind, as he stood looking keenly round from the highest point he could clamber up to. It came at sight of the birds whirling and clamouring round the end of the pile. Suppose ... oh,—horrible! ... yet it might very well be.
"What is it?" asked The Girl anxiously, for his lips and face had tightened ominously at his thought.
"Nothing, maybe. I'm going over there to see...."
"Can you see anything of him?"
"No."
He poled the raft along the edge of the pile towards the hovering cloud of birds.
"Now, I'm going to swim along here and climb up. I want to see what they're at. You will be quite safe here."
She glanced at him with a startled look, fathoming his grim thought instantly, and it blanched her face for a moment.
"They may turn on you," she jerked.