e wheel, and glanced at Wyllard's oilskins.

"You'll have to take them off. It's stuffed boots and those Indian
seal-gut things or furs from now on," he said. "That leather cuff's
chewing up your hand."

"We'll cut that out," said Wyllard; "it's not to the point. Can't you
get on?"

Dampier grinned. "We're on soundings, and they and Dunton's longitude
most agree. With this wind we should pick the beach up in the next two
days. Next question is, where those men were?"

"Where they are," said Wyllard.

"If they've pushed on it's probably a different thing, though if they'd
food yonder I don't quite see why they'd want to push on anywhere. It
wouldn't be south, anyway. They'd run up against the Russians there."

"We've decided that already."

"I'm admitting it," said the skipper. "There's the other choice that
they've gone up north. It's narrower across to Alaska there, and it's
quite likely they might have a notion of looking out for one of the
steam whalers. The Koriaks up yonder will have boats of some kind. If
they're skin ones like those the Huskies have they might sledge them on
the ice."

It was a suggestion that had been made several times already, but both
the men realised that there was in all probability very little to
warrant it. Wyllard had wasted no time endeavouring to learn what was
known about the desolation on the western shore of the Behring Sea. He
had bought a schooner and set out at once. It, however, appeared
almost impossible to him that any three men could haul the skin boats
and supplies they would need far over hummocky ice.

"The point is that we'll have to fix on some course in the next few
days," added his companion. "Say we run in to make inquiries"--and a
gleam of grim amusement crept into his eyes--"what are we going to
find? A beach with a roaring surf on it, and if we get a boat through,
a desolate, half-frozen swamp behind it. It's quite likely there are
people in the country, Koriaks or Kamtchadales, but if there are
they'll probably move up and down after what they get to eat like the
Huskies do, and we can't hang on and wait for them. Most any time next
month we'll have the ice closing in."

Wyllard said nothing for another minute, and as he stood with hands
clenched on the wheel a little puff of bitter spray splashed upon his
oilskins. They had been over it all often before, weighing conjecture
after conjecture, and had found nothing in any that might