shore if he wanted it. An' there
ain't much goin' on that Tamada ain't wise to. See if you can't get next
to him. Trubble is he's too damn' neutral. He knows he's safe, becoz
he's cook an' a damn' good one. But he's wise to what Carlsen's playin'
at.

"Carlsen don't care for man, woman, God, or the devil. Neither do I," he
concluded. "An' I've got a card or two up my sleeve. But I'd sure like
to git a peep at what the doc's holdin'."

The storm blew out, and there came a spell of pleasant weather, with the
_Karluk_ gliding along, logging a fair rate where a less well-designed
vessel would barely have found steerage way, riding on an almost even
keel. Simms was still confined to his cabin, though now his daughter
took him in an occasional tray.

Except for observations and the details of navigation, Carlsen left the
schooner to Rainey. They were well off the coast, out of the fogs,
apparently alone upon the lonely ocean that ran sparkling to the far
horizon. It was warm, there was little to do, the sailors, as well as
the hunters, spent most of their time lounging on the deck.

Save at meal-times, Carlsen, for one who had announced himself as an
accepted lover, neglected the girl, who had devoted herself to her
father. Yet she seldom went into her cabin, never remained there long,
and time must have hung heavily on her hands. A girl of her spirit must
have resented such treatment, Rainey imagined, but reminded himself it
was none of his business.

Lund hung over the rail, smoking, or paced the deck, always close to
Rainey. The manner in which he went about the ship was almost uncanny.
Except that his arms were generally ahead of him when he moved, his
hands, with their woolly covering of red hair, lightly touching boom or
rope or rail, he showed no hesitation, made no mistakes.

He no longer shuffled, as he had on shore, but moved with a pantherlike
dexterity, here and there at will. When the breeze was steady he would
even take the wheel and steer perfectly by the "feel of the wind" on his
cheek, the slap of it in the canvas, or the creak of the rigging to tell
him if he was holding to the course. And he took an almost childish
delight in proclaiming his prowess as helmsman.

The booms were stayed out against swinging in flaws and the roll of the
sea, and Lund strode back and forth behind Rainey, who had the wheel.
The hunters were grouped about Carlsen, who, seated on the skylight, was
telling them something at