," Wolf Larsen commanded. "And
stand by to back over the jibs."

I ran forward and had the downhaul of the flying jib all in and fast as
we slipped by the boat a hundred feet to leeward. The three men in it
gazed at us suspiciously. They had been hogging the sea, and they knew
Wolf Larsen, by reputation at any rate. I noted that the hunter, a huge
Scandinavian sitting in the bow, held his rifle, ready to hand, across
his knees. It should have been in its proper place in the rack. When
they came opposite our stern, Wolf Larsen greeted them with a wave of the
hand, and cried:

"Come on board and have a 'gam'!"

"To gam," among the sealing-schooners, is a substitute for the verbs "to
visit," "to gossip." It expresses the garrulity of the sea, and is a
pleasant break in the monotony of the life.

The _Ghost_ swung around into the wind, and I finished my work forward in
time to run aft and lend a hand with the mainsheet.

"You will please stay on deck, Miss Brewster," Wolf Larsen said, as he
started forward to meet his guest. "And you too, Mr. Van Weyden."

The boat had lowered its sail and run alongside. The hunter, golden
bearded like a sea-king, came over the rail and dropped on deck. But his
hugeness could not quite overcome his apprehensiveness. Doubt and
distrust showed strongly in his face. It was a transparent face, for all
of its hairy shield, and advertised instant relief when he glanced from
Wolf Larsen to me, noted that there was only the pair of us, and then
glanced over his own two men who had joined him. Surely he had little
reason to be afraid. He towered like a Goliath above Wolf Larsen. He
must have measured six feet eight or nine inches in stature, and I
subsequently learned his weight--240 pounds. And there was no fat about
him. It was all bone and muscle.

A return of apprehension was apparent when, at the top of the
companion-way, Wolf Larsen invited him below. But he reassured himself
with a glance down at his host--a big man himself but dwarfed by the
propinquity of the giant. So all hesitancy vanished, and the pair
descended into the cabin. In the meantime, his two men, as was the wont
of visiting sailors, had gone forward into the forecastle to do some
visiting themselves.

Suddenly, from the cabin came a great, choking bellow, followed by all
the sounds of a furious struggle. It was the leopard and the lion, and
the lion made all the noise. Wolf Larsen was the leopard