“Whew, close shave that!” exclaimed Sandy.
“And maybe he’ll freeze to death from that wetting,” Dick added. “Sandy, you’d better get one of the heaters started so he can dry off.”
But Sipsa, hardy Eskimo that he was, made it known, by various signs, that he needed no heater, and took up his former position as if nothing had happened. While the ducking might have been fatal for Dick or Sandy, it meant little to the guide since the season was what he called summer.
Once off the headland the current swept them northward as they had hoped, and also a breeze sprang up from the open sea. The sail filled and they began to make time toward the island. The floe which had separated the umiacks had passed on and Dick and Sandy could see Toma and Constable Sloan coming along safely a quarter mile behind. Corporal McCarthy was within speaking distance again and his voice boomed out over the water.
“Watch out for walrus! There’s a big bull in here somewhere. Steer clear of him if you can.”
The moment was a tense one for Dick and Sandy. Many a story they had heard of these giant inhabitants of the Polar Sea, and to meet one in his native haunts was something they feared, yet hoped to experience.
Dick’s eyes were fixed upon the water near at hand when something dark welled up out of the clear blue depths and shot past the boat.
“There he is!” he cried.
“Sure it was a walrus?” Sandy hazarded breathlessly.
“It must have been. It had big flippers and I think I saw tusks like an elephant’s.”