afraid," Wade said.

"Well, not to-night, I dare say," replied Raed.

"How long do you set it?" Kit asked, taking down his glass. "Suppose
the captain is lucky enough to get away from them: how long do you
think it will be before he will get back here for us?"

"That, of course, depends on how far they chase him," said Raed.

"They'll chase him just as far as they can," replied Kit. "Why not?
It's right on their way home. They'll chase the schooner clean out the
straits."

"The captain may turn down into Ungava Bay, on the south side of the
straits," Raed replied.

"No, he won't do that," Kit contended. "That bay is full of islands,
and choked with ice; and our charts ar'n't worth the paper they're
made out on."

"Well, if he has to run out into the Atlantic, he may not be back for
ten days."

"Ten days!" exclaimed Wade. "If we see him in a month, we need to
think we're lucky."

_Bang!_

"That's a pleasant sound for us, isn't it, now?" Kit
demanded,--"expecting every shot will lose us the schooner, and leave
us two thousand miles from home on a more than barren coast!"

"I shall look for 'The Curlew' in ten days," Raed remarked. "And I
don't think we had better leave here, to go off any great distance,
till we feel sure she's not coming back for us. If she's not back in
two weeks, I shall think we have got to shirk for ourselves."

"But how in the world are we to live two weeks here!" Wade exclaimed.

"Live by our wits," Kit observed.

"Looks as if we should have to give up coffee," Raed said, trying to
get a laugh going.

"Why, I'm hungry now!" Wade cried out; "but I don't see anything to
eat but ice and rocks!"

"It's half-past eleven," Kit announced, looking at his watch.
"Seriously, what do you expect we can get hold of for grub, Raed?"

"Well, seals."

"Seals!" exclaimed Wade; "the oily, nasty trash!"

"Hunger may bring you to sing a different tune," Kit muttered. "I'm
not sure that a seal's flipper might not be acceptable by to-morrow
morning."

"There are plenty of kittiwakes and lumne and eiderducks about these
islets," I suggested. "We can shoot some of them."

"And we can fish!" Weymouth exclaimed.

"Where's your hooks?" said Kit.

That question floored the fishing project.

"Well, we've got our muskets," replied Weymouth.

"How many cartridges in all?" Raed asked.

"Let's take account of them. They are like to be precious property."

"I've got eight," said Kit, counting th