es. The same decision
had come to both.

There was a tiny space of muddy floor between them. Kent doused it with
light from the flash. In the mud, with a forefinger he slowly traced
these words one at a time, rubbing each one out to make room for the
next:

"I get torp. Kill whale with gun. Only way. I go. I senior. If fail, you
try."

He looked at the other inquiringly. Vigorously, Chanley Beddoes shook
his head.

He smoothed over the last word Ken had marked and in its place, in the
same fashion, began:

"No. Draw lots. Only fair."

Yes, it was fair, and Ken knew it. He wrote:

"How?"

The second torpooner scrabbled around with his fingers. Presently he
unearthed something, and apparently satisfied showed them to Ken. They
were two pebbles, of different sizes. Beddoes pointed to the larger. He
wrote:

"Large makes attempt."

Again Ken nodded. He marked:

"Other try keep killer's attention."

From time to time a long sleek body slid down to them and edged back and
forth, striving its best to dislodge them with its blunt shout. After
each failure it would return to a position just over the outer entrance.
At the proper moment Chanley Beddoes jumbled the pebbles in his cupped
hands and laid two fists down on the pad.

Unhesitatingly, Ken placed a finger on the left one.

Beddoes turned and opened it. It was the smaller pebble.

* * * * *

Close as was his face-shield to Beddoes', Ken could not see what his
reaction was. Ken stretched forth his hand and clumsily touched his
companion's shoulder.

"Good hunting!" he said; but Chan never heard that....

The marked man peered out into the trap. The killer was circling slowly.
In the escape hole, the faces of three or four blubber-men were dimly
visible. They seemed to be watching with interest.

There came a good moment when the killer paused at the three bars of its
cell, its head turned in exactly the opposite direction from the two
torpooners. Beddoes seized the opportunity at once. Almost before Ken
knew it, he had rolled out of the niche.

Quickly he worked to his feet and started pushing for his goal. The
whale had not seen him. Arms and legs straining, he floundered slowly
ahead. He nearly made it.

But the killer, restlessly turning, saw him--and Kenneth Torrance winced
and cried out.

The black monster struck. With horrible, beautiful grace it curved down.
Its snout caught Chanley Beddoes square in the side a