in the dark the doors of an enormous
refrigerator. He knew what that felt like, and this was much the same.

The weather was still clearing. In the sky of indigo the stars were
glittering points, not of gold, but steel, hard and cold. Ahead, the
northern lights were projected above the horizon in a low arch of
quivering rose. And, out of the north, before the wind, the sea advanced
in the long, smooth folds of a weighty swell over which the _Karluk_
wore her way into the breeze, clawing steadily on to the Aleutians and a
passage through to Bering Strait.

At two bells the hunters began to come on deck for a breath or so of
fresh air after the closeness of their quarters, as they invariably did
following a poker session. They did not come aft or give any greeting to
Rainey, but walked briskly about in couples, discussing something that
Rainey did not doubt was the next day's meeting. Doubtless, in the
confidence of their numbers, they considered it a mere formality. Lund
would take what they offered--or nothing. And Carlsen had guaranteed the
skipper's signature to an agreement.

They got their lungs recharged with good air, and then the cold drove
them below, and Rainey, with the length of the schooner between him and
the watch, was practically alone. He went over and over the situation
as a squirrel might race around the bars of his revolving cylinder, and
came to only one conclusion, the inevitable one, to let the matter
develop itself. Lund's winning card he had bothered about until his
brain was tired. The only thing he got out of all his fussing was the
one new thought that seemed to fly out at a tangent and mock him.

If Carlsen was deposed, and the skipper continued ill--to face the worst
but still plausible--if Carlsen, being deposed, refused to act, and the
skipper was too sick to leave his room--who was going to navigate the
schooner? Not a blind man. And Rainey couldn't learn navigation in a
day. There was more to it in these perilous seas than mere reckoning.
Ice was ahead.

What could Lund make of that? Supposing that card of his did win, how
could they handle the schooner? He, in his capacity of eyes for Lund,
would be about as competent as a poodle trying to lead a blind pedler
out of a maze.

The lookout broke in on his mulling over with a sudden shout.

"_Ice! Ice!_ Close on the starboard bow!"

Rainey put the helm over, throwing the _Karluk_ on the opposite tack.

The berg slipped by them, no