"And plump," said a third.
"Wid cheeks like the hide of a walrus," cried O'Riley; "but, sure, it
won't show wid a veil on."
"Come, now, you won't refuse."
But Buzzby did refuse; not, however, so determinedly but that he was
induced at last to allow his name to be entered in Fred's note-book as a
supernumerary.
"Hark!" cried the captain; "surely the dogs must have smelt a bear."
There was instantly a dead silence in the cabin, and a long, loud wail
from the dogs was heard outside.
"It's not like their usual cry when game is near," said the second mate.
"Hand me my rifle, Mivins," said the captain, springing up and pulling
forward the hood of his jumper, as he hurried on deck followed by the
crew.
It was a bright, still, frosty night, and the air felt intensely sharp,
as if needles were pricking the skin, while the men's breath issued from
their lips in white clouds and settled in hoar-frost on the edges of
their hoods. The dogs were seen galloping about the ice-hummocks as if
in agitation, darting off to a considerable distance at times, and
returning with low whines to the ship.
"It is very strange," remarked the captain. "Jump down on the ice, boys,
and search for footprints. Extend as far as Store Island, and see that
all is right there."
In a few seconds the men scattered themselves right and left, and were
lost in the gloom, while the vessel was left in charge of Mivins and
four men.
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