“I’ve thought since that I had made a mistake,” said Gardner dryly. “But that was yesterday morning, and I’m pretty near all in. Come and take me off.”
There was a brief consultation on the launch. The orca, meanwhile, continued her patrol before the rock, as if such things as forty-foot motor-boats were not worth noticing.
“You’ll have to hang on a bit longer,” shouted the captain, “while we run back to port and get a whale gun. We’ve got a heavy rifle here, but it’s not safe to tackle her with that, for, if we didn’t fix her first shot, she’d make matchwood of this launch in about ten seconds. We’ll be back inside of an hour, so don’t fret.”
“Thanks!” said Gardner; and, sweeping off in a wide curve, the launch disappeared behind the island.
It seemed to the imprisoned man a terribly long hour, and he had occasion to bless the cool dripping jacket before he again heard the chug—chug—chug—chug of the motor clamoring behind his prison. This time, as soon as it came in sight, it bore straight down upon the orca. In its bow, as it slid gracefully dipping over the smooth swell, Gardner remarked a strange gun, a sort of short big-bore rifle on a swivel. The orca now took note of the fact that the launch was heading straight for her. She paused in her tireless patrolling, and eyed it defiantly, hesitating as to whether she should attack it or not.
The launch reversed propellers till her progress came to a stop, while her captain sighted the weapon in her bow. There was a mighty report. The monster flung herself half-way out of the water, and fell back with a gigantic splash. For a moment she rushed madly around in a half circle, then crashed headlong into the cliff, gave one violent shudder, and slowly sank to a fringing reef about two fathoms down.
“Have you plenty of water right up to your ledge?” demanded the captain, as the launch drew slowly in.
“Plenty,” said Gardner, swinging down stiffly from his niche and standing ready to crawl aboard.
GRAY LYNX’S LAST HUNTING
Gray Lynx went ahead. His mate, almost as large as he, and even more savage in her lightning ferocity, was at the same time more shy of approaching the habitations of man. Full of suspicions, but driven by the pangs of midwinter famine, she followed at a little distance, while Gray Lynx, stealthily, crouching close to the snow, led the way across the open to the low, snow-muffled outbuildings of the lonely wilderness farm.