Suddenly he started up in affright. The bidarkie was not where he had last seen it. What had happened? Was he indeed alone in that awful place? No; there it was, and Phil heaved a great sigh of relief. But how far away it was! How could they have gained such a distance so quickly? Now it seemed to be coming towards him again, and at a tremendous speed. What could it all mean? He rubbed his eyes to be sure they were not playing him false. That they were not was proved by a sight of the frail craft right abreast of him, but madly dashing past, and above the surge of breakers the shouts of his companions came faintly to his ears.
For nearly an hour were the erratic movements of the bidarkie continued, and then slowly and heavily it approached the shore. Phil ran back and down the roundabout way leading to the beach to meet it. When he reached the water’s edge he found the others already on shore, and just landing a halibut so huge that both the white lads estimated it to weigh fully two hundred pounds.
“You see,” explained Serge, “we couldn’t get it into the canoe, or kill it, or do anything except let it tow us round till it was tired out. Finally we got close enough for Kooga to spear it, and then we took our turn at towing. The hook held, though, and I don’t believe it would if it hadn’t been a good one.”
“It certainly is a good one!” exclaimed Phil, “and I will never say another word against that style of tackle. But, oh, Serge, it was horrid here while you were gone, and I hope you won’t ever leave me alone in such a place again.”
“All right, old fellow, I won’t,” replied Serge, heartily.
After securing the precious bidarkie in a place of safety, and cutting a few steaks from the great halibut, the three lads returned to camp, where they passed their evening in cooking and eating another meal.
“I don’t know how it is,” remarked Phil, meditatively, as he washed the dishes by thrusting his sheath-knife into a tuft of moss, “but there seems to be something in the air of this country that makes a fellow want to eat about a dozen meals a day.”
There seemed to be something in the air that compelled sleep, too. As there was a moon, the others agreed to Phil’s proposition, born of his recent resolves, to take turns in watching all night for the schooner. Kooga, to whom the plan was explained by Serge, was to take the first, Serge the midnight, and Phil the morning watch. This scheme was carried out as arranged, except that the rising sun found the last watcher sound asleep. Awakened by its warm beams, he cast a glance at the sea, sprang to his feet, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Then he gave a shout that brought the others to his side.