u, Steve?"

"Yes, sir, I've heard it, too."

"Then why didn't you speak?"

Steve was silent, and the captain listened again.

"Yes, that is a steamer's whistle undoubtedly, and perhaps not very
distant."

"She can't be very far away, sir. If she were, we could not have heard
her at all."

The men were cheery now, and pulled with a steady stroke, making but
little way on account of the heavy load they were towing; but the fact
of their hearing the vessel, of which there was no doubt now, inspirited
them.

"Stop!" said the captain suddenly. "Now, Steve, hail!"

As the boy sent forth as loud an ahoy as his lungs would allow there was
a dull, smothered wail off astern, very near at hand, evidently, one
moment, and the next sounding distant and far away.

"Hail again!" cried the captain; and this time Johannes gave forth one
of his hoarse, deep roars, the sound seeming to return upon them, but
there was no reply.

"Hail again, Steve," and the boy shouted; but still without result.

Then Johannes sent forth another of his sonorous roars, and all laid on
their oars and listened, when, so softly as to be almost imperceptible
as the men held their breath, there came a low hail, which grew fainter
and fainter and then died away.

"That was the _Hvalross_, I'm sure!" cried Steve excitedly, as the
boat's course was altered once more.

"Yes; and she's hanging about to find us," said the captain. "Cheer up,
my lads. She won't go far without trying back; she can't be far away."

The men tugged at their oars, but there was no answering cheer; even the
great Norseman was silent, while, as Steve settled down in his place
once more, he felt as if they were to be left to take their chance on
the outskirts of the region of ice, for, after signalling till they were
weary, the _Hvalross_ must be steaming right away.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

OCCUPANTS OF THE DEEP.

Saddened faces met the gaze of the occupants of the stern sheets, as the
men steadily tugged away at their oars hour after hour, with the heavy
beluga hanging from its rope behind. Then all at once, when the mist
was most dense, the silence perfect, and a feeling coming over all that
it would be impossible to go on rowing much longer, every one loosed his
oar and joined in a loud cheer; for from quite close at hand--so near,
in fact, that the mist swayed with the concussion--there was the dull,
heavy roar of a cannon.

"The _Hvalross_!" cried Steve.

"Y