as
Lund phrased it, that had given brawn to the giant, had given Rainey
brains. When the time came he would use them.

After this the girl avoided Lund's company as much as possible by
seeking Rainey's. They worked through the Strait and headed into the
Arctic Ocean. Ice was all about them, fields formed of vast blocks of
frozen water divided by broad lanes through which the _Karluk_ slowly
made her way, a maze of ice, always threatening, calling for all of
Lund's skill while he fumed at every barrier, every change of the
weather that grew steadily colder.

The sky was never entirely unveiled by mist, and at night, as they
sailed down a frozen fiord with lookouts doubled, the grinding smashing
noises of the ice seemed the warning voice of the North, as they sailed
on into the wilderness.

The hunters kept below. Lund bossed the ship. Deming, it seemed, managed
to hold his cards and deal them despite his mending arm in splints. And
he was steadily winning. The girl talked with Rainey of her own life
ashore and at sea on earlier trips with her father, of his own desire to
write, of his ambitions, until there was little he had not told her,
even to the girl who was the daughter of the Lumber King.

And the spell of her nearness, her youth, her beauty, naturally held
him. When he was on deck duty she remained in her room. When Lund
relieved him, the day's work giving Lund, Hansen, and Rainey each two
regular watches of four hours, though Lund put in most of the night as
the ice grew more difficult to navigate, Rainey occasionally saw the
giant's eyes sizing him up with a sardonic twinkle.

For the time being, the safety of the _Karluk_ and the successful
carrying out of the purpose of the trip took all of Lund's attention and
energy. Twice he had been thwarted by the weather from gleaning his
golden harvest, and it began to look as if the third attempt might be no
more fortunate.

"The _Karluk's_ stout," he said once, "but she ain't built for the
Arctic. If we git nipped badly she'll go like an eggshell."

"And then what?" Rainey asked.

"Git the gold! That's what we come for. If we have to make sleds an' use
the hunters for a dorg-team." He laughed indomitably. "We'll make a man
of you yit, Rainey, afore we git back."

Lund was snatching sleep in scraps, seeking always to feel a way toward
the position of the island through the ice that continually baffled
progress. Several times they risked the schooner in a n