"Lash your tows, b'ys," shouted Bill, to the rest of the men. "Leave the rest go. 'Tis too late t' sculp any more."
There was some complaint; but Bill silenced the growlers with a sharp word or two. The whole party set off in a straggling line, dragging their tows; it was Bill who brought up the rear, for he wanted to make sure that his company would come entire to the landing-place. Strong, stinging blasts of wind were then sweeping out of the northeast, and the snow was fast narrowing the view.
"Faster, b'ys!" cried Bill. "The storm's comin' wonderful quick."
The storm came faster than, with all his experience, Bill o' Burnt Bay had before believed possible. When he had given the order to abandon the unskinned seals, he thought that there was time and to spare; but, now, with less than half the distance to the landing-place covered, the men were already staggering, the wind was blowing a gale, and the blinding snow almost hid the flags at the water's edge. When he realized this, and that the ship was not yet in sight, "Drop everything, an' run for it!" was the order he sent up the line.
"Archie, b'y," he then shouted, catching the lad by the arm and drawing him nearer, "we got t' run for the landing-place. Stick close t' me. When you're done out, I'll carry you. Is you afraid, b'y?"
Archie looked up, but did not deign to reply to the humiliating question.
"All right, lad," said Bill, understanding. "Is you ready?"
Archie knew that his strength and courage were to be tried. He was tired, and cold, and almost hopeless; but, then and there, he resolved to prove his blood and breeding--to prove to these men, who had been unfailingly kind to him, but yet had naturally looked with good-natured contempt upon his fine clothes and white hands, that fortitude was not incompatible with a neat cravat and nice manners. Beyond all that, however, it was his aim to prove that Sir Archibald Armstrong's son was the son of his own father.
_In Which the Men are Lost, the Dictator is Nipped and Captain Hand Sobs, "Poor Sir Archibald!"_
WHEN the last party of hunters had been landed from the _Dictator_, the ship was taken off the ice field; and there she hung, in idleness, awaiting the end of the hunt. It was then long past noon. The darkening sky in the northeast promised storm and an early night more surely than ever. It fretted the captain. He was accountable to the women and children of Green Bay for the lives of the men; so he kept to the deck, with an eye on the weather: and while the gloom deepened and spread, a storm of anxiety gathered in his heart--and, at last, broke in action.