[CHAPTER XXVI]
SERGE KILLS A BEAR, AND JALAP COOMBS DISAPPEARS
It cost Phil and Kooga the greater part of a day of unremitting labor to return to that point of Oonimak Island where they had left Serge. During that time the former had ample opportunity for reflection. He realized how reckless he had been in setting forth on such a wild chase at so critical a juncture, just to gratify a selfish whim, and now he bitterly regretted that he had not been more thoughtful, both for his comrades and himself. “The worst of it is,” he muttered, “that not only have I missed the schooner on this side of the island, but I am afraid the other has gone by as well. It would serve me just right, too, if Serge had got tired of waiting, and had rejoined Mr. Coombs, and they had both been taken off by the other schooner. What shall I do, though, in that case? Return to Saanak, I suppose, and turn Aleut, and follow sea-otter hunting as a business for the rest of my life. But he hasn’t gone; I know he hasn’t! Old Serge is too true a comrade to do a thing like that. In spite of loneliness and uncertainty and everything else, I shall find him waiting for me; I know I shall.”
And so it proved. As the paddlers wearily drew near to their journey’s end late in the afternoon, Kooga first discovered a human figure on the beach of the well-remembered cove, and pointed it out. Phil knew it must be his faithful friend, and uttered a wild yell, a faint answer to which came back from the solitary figure. Then, inspired with a new energy, the tired crew of the bidarkie so redoubled their efforts that their little craft fairly flew over the smooth waters, leaving a long shining wake of dancing bubbles behind her. Up to the very beach she dashed with unabated swiftness, and there was brought to a sudden halt by a powerful back-stroke from the flashing blades.
“Hurrah, Serge, old man! Here we are again!” shouted Phil.
“Oh, Phil! I am so thankful that you have come, and are safe. I had almost given you up for lost.”
A second later the friends had grasped each other’s hands, and were both talking at once, they had so much to tell and so many questions to ask.
“It is so good to see you again, Phil!” and, “Old man, I never was more glad to get back to a place in my life!” were exclamations repeated over and over again.
“Do you know,” said Serge, “I was certain it must be you when I first sighted the bidarkie, so far away that she was the merest speck. Then, as she drew near, you looked so much like a native that I was filled with a horrid fear. You see, not having any hat on—”
“Oh yes!” interrupted Phil. “I lost that the day we were out after sea-lions. I tell you what, Serge, that’s the grandest kind of hunting, right in the edge of great breakers that are dashing their spray all over you, and they look as big as elephants—the sea-lions, I mean—and they’ve got the wickedest teeth, and great shaggy manes, and they roar as if they meant to eat you up. Oh, it was fine!”