Dick had almost lost hope and was about ready to cut the line, when the narwhal changed his course suddenly. The line slackened as the huge gray and black body propelling the kayack swerved in a shower of spray, and doubled on its course. The kayack shot on by its own momentum, until with a powerful jerk the line hauled it about. The sudden turn tipped the kayack over as if it had been a feather, then the same force righted it again, while Dick blew the water out of his mouth and nose.
Maddened by his wound, the narwhal seemed not to know or care where it went. Like a mighty propeller his fan-like tail lashed the water to a frenzy, as it headed straight toward Sandy’s bobbing kayack.
“Let him have your harpoon as he goes by,” Dick screamed to Sandy through a cupped palm.
Sandy shook his harpoon in the air in reply, and Dick could see him settle for a cast as he rushed on.
At first the narwhal seemed to be headed at an angle that would bring him past Sandy’s kayack across the prow at a distance of about ten yards, close enough for a good cast with the harpoon. But, less than a hundred yards from Sandy’s kayack, the big mammal changed course slightly, and with a hoarse shout of dismay, Dick saw that if the narwhal kept on he would ram Sandy’s kayack squarely in the middle.
“Get out of the way!” shouted Dick frantically.
But Sandy was already making all haste with his paddle, and so well did he handle his kayack that the rushing sea-giant failed to run him down by several inches. As the big body whizzed by, Sandy made a quick throw with his harpoon, but missed, his line dropping over Dick’s taut one, narrowly escaping entanglement as Dick’s kayack collided with it.
“Hang on, Dick!” Sandy shouted as his chum shot past him. “You’re headed straight toward Sipsa and the other hunters.”
Dick had already foreseen this and his hopes were rising when, without any warning whatsoever, the narwhal dived. Had he gone far down Dick would, no doubt, have been dragged under water and drowned before he could slash free the harpoon line. As it was, the narwhal dived up and down alternately, drawing the prow of the kayack under water with a rush and bringing it up again with giddy speed.
Choking and gasping as the icy water trickled into his parka above the waterproof covering on the kayack, Dick had almost given up hope while blindly slashing at the harpoon line, when the narwhal ceased diving and began darting this way and that over the surface of the water. Desisting in his attempts to sever the line, Dick saw that the Eskimo hunters were paddling fast toward him and that they would soon reach a point where their harpoons could finish the narwhal.