cks out of very fellowship."

"I beg of you not to receive false impressions of us from Mr. Van
Weyden," he interposed with mock anxiety. "You will observe, Miss
Brewster, that he carries a dirk in his belt, a--ahem--a most unusual
thing for a ship's officer to do. While really very estimable, Mr. Van
Weyden is sometimes--how shall I say?--er--quarrelsome, and harsh
measures are necessary. He is quite reasonable and fair in his calm
moments, and as he is calm now he will not deny that only yesterday he
threatened my life."

I was well-nigh choking, and my eyes were certainly fiery. He drew
attention to me.

"Look at him now. He can scarcely control himself in your presence. He
is not accustomed to the presence of ladies anyway. I shall have to arm
myself before I dare go on deck with him."

He shook his head sadly, murmuring, "Too bad, too bad," while the hunters
burst into guffaws of laughter.

The deep-sea voices of these men, rumbling and bellowing in the confined
space, produced a wild effect. The whole setting was wild, and for the
first time, regarding this strange woman and realizing how incongruous
she was in it, I was aware of how much a part of it I was myself. I knew
these men and their mental processes, was one of them myself, living the
seal-hunting life, eating the seal-hunting fare, thinking, largely, the
seal-hunting thoughts. There was for me no strangeness to it, to the
rough clothes, the coarse faces, the wild laughter, and the lurching
cabin walls and swaying sea-lamps.

As I buttered a piece of bread my eyes chanced to rest upon my hand. The
knuckles were skinned and inflamed clear across, the fingers swollen, the
nails rimmed with black. I felt the mattress-like growth of beard on my
neck, knew that the sleeve of my coat was ripped, that a button was
missing from the throat of the blue shirt I wore. The dirk mentioned by
Wolf Larsen rested in its sheath on my hip. It was very natural that it
should be there,--how natural I had not imagined until now, when I looked
upon it with her eyes and knew how strange it and all that went with it
must appear to her.

But she divined the mockery in Wolf Larsen's words, and again favoured me
with a sympathetic glance. But there was a look of bewilderment also in
her eyes. That it was mockery made the situation more puzzling to her.

"I may be taken off by some passing vessel, perhaps," she suggested.

"There will be no passing vessels,