he asked.

"She'll come lookin' for her calf," the old whaler answered, "an' as
long as we stay near that she'll come up to us. Lots of whalers shoot
the calves a-purpose, makin' it easier to get the old whales, but I
don't hold with that. I've never done it. Shootin' this one was just an
accident, but as long as the little chap is dead anyhow, we might as
well make use of him."

Just as the old whaler had predicted, in less than five minutes the
mother whale spouted, coming in the direction of the vessel. In less
than five minutes more she spouted again, just a little distance from
the calf. Not understanding what had happened, she swam around as though
to persuade the little one to follow her, and as she circled round the
calf she came within range of the harpoon-gun. It was far too dark to
see clearly, but Hank chanced a shot. The sudden roar startled Colin.

"Did you get her?" he asked anxiously.

"I hit her, all right," the gunner answered with a dissatisfied air,
"but not just where I wanted."

The boy thought it wonderful that he should have been able to hit the
monster at all, so small a portion of the body was exposed and so
heavily was the _Gull_ pitching. The whale, instead of sounding
directly, dived at a sharp angle and the line ran out like lightning.

"What's that, Hank?" asked Colin in a startled voice, pointing over to
the water just below the little calf, which had been hauled in by hand
alongside the ship.

"Killers, by all that's holy!" ejaculated the whaler. "They'll get every
blessed whale we've landed to-day. Did you ever see such luck!"

"What are they after?" asked Colin, "the calf whale?"

"Yes, or any other of 'em. See, the mother has smelt 'em and knows they
mean harm for the baby."

It was growing dark and Colin leaned over the rail to see. Suddenly up
from the deep, with a rush as of a pack of maddened hounds, ten or a
dozen ferocious creatures, from fifteen to twenty feet in length,
snatched and bit and tore at the body of the baby whale. A big white
spot behind each eye looked like a fearful organ of vision, their white
and yellowish undersides and black backs flashed and gleamed and the big
fins cut the water like swords. The huge curved teeth gleamed in the
reddened water as the 'tigers of the sea' lashed round, infuriated with
lust for blood.

Then with a violent gesture of reminder, as though he had forgotten that
which was of prime importance, Hank took a few quick step