approaching. He had had
enough for this night--more than enough.

The snow was hard packed; the descent for many yards was steep, and Johnny
gained a momentum in his downward plunge that threatened disaster. Now he
careened over a low ridge to shoot downward over a succession of rolling
terraces. Now he slid along the trough of a bank of snow. One thought was
comforting; he was escaping from those strange brown men. Shots had rung
out. Bullets whizzed past him, one fairly burning his cheek. It was with a
distinct sense of relief that he at last bumped over a sheer drop of six
feet to a gentler incline where he was quite out of their sight.

By digging in his heels, he brought himself to a stop. Hardly had he done
this than he sprang up and raced back up the hill to the last rocky ridge
over which he had glided. From the top of this he might be able to see the
men without himself being seen.

As he thrust his toe into a crack and braced his elbows, he peered up the
snowy slope to the cliffs above. All was bathed in a glorious moonlight,
but not a creature stirred. He watched for fully five minutes with no
result. When about to drop to the snow again, he thought he detected a
movement to the left of where he had been looking. Fixing his eyes on that
point, he watched. Yes, there it was; something was passing out from
behind a rock. A gasp escaped his lips.

What appeared to be a gigantic golden coated cat had moved stealthily out
upon the snow, and was gliding toward the upper cliffs.

"Whew!" Johnny wiped the cold perspiration from his brow. Still he
stared.

The creature moved in a leisurely manner up the hill until it disappeared
around the cliffs.

Johnny looked to the right and down the hill. The light of the clubroom
was still burning. He beat a hasty retreat.

It was a surprised and startled group that looked him over as he appeared
at the door, ragged, bruised and bloody. Eagerly they crowded about to
hear his story.

When he had washed the blood from his face and drawn on clean shirt and
trousers, he took a place by the open fire and told them--told them as
only Johnny could.

"Well, what do you make of it?" He threw back his head and laughed a
frank, boyish laugh, as he finished. "Some wild and woolly adventure, eh?
Who were those little men? And what does it all mean?"

"Means the natives are getting superstitious about our effect on the
spirits of their dead whales and are planning to treat us rou