is words brought anxiety into the faces of the other hunters. A Russian
could mean but one thing--a cruiser. The hunters, never more than
roughly aware of the position of the ship, nevertheless knew that we were
close to the boundaries of the forbidden sea, while Wolf Larsen's record
as a poacher was notorious. All eyes centred upon him.

"We're dead safe," he assured them with a laugh. "No salt mines this
time, Smoke. But I'll tell you what--I'll lay odds of five to one it's
the _Macedonia_."

No one accepted his offer, and he went on: "In which event, I'll lay ten
to one there's trouble breezing up."

"No, thank you," Latimer spoke up. "I don't object to losing my money,
but I like to get a run for it anyway. There never was a time when there
wasn't trouble when you and that brother of yours got together, and I'll
lay twenty to one on that."

A general smile followed, in which Wolf Larsen joined, and the dinner
went on smoothly, thanks to me, for he treated me abominably the rest of
the meal, sneering at me and patronizing me till I was all a-tremble with
suppressed rage. Yet I knew I must control myself for Maud Brewster's
sake, and I received my reward when her eyes caught mine for a fleeting
second, and they said, as distinctly as if she spoke, "Be brave, be
brave."

We left the table to go on deck, for a steamer was a welcome break in the
monotony of the sea on which we floated, while the conviction that it was
Death Larsen and the _Macedonia_ added to the excitement. The stiff
breeze and heavy sea which had sprung up the previous afternoon had been
moderating all morning, so that it was now possible to lower the boats
for an afternoon's hunt. The hunting promised to be profitable. We had
sailed since daylight across a sea barren of seals, and were now running
into the herd.

The smoke was still miles astern, but overhauling us rapidly, when we
lowered our boats. They spread out and struck a northerly course across
the ocean. Now and again we saw a sail lower, heard the reports of the
shot-guns, and saw the sail go up again. The seals were thick, the wind
was dying away; everything favoured a big catch. As we ran off to get
our leeward position of the last lee boat, we found the ocean fairly
carpeted with sleeping seals. They were all about us, thicker than I had
ever seen them before, in twos and threes and bunches, stretched full
length on the surface and sleeping for all the world like so