On lifting their eyes aloft they beheld a singular-looking object gazing
at them over the edge of the foretop.
It appeared to be some huge animal, though of what kind they could not
make out.
Scarcely waiting to consider what they were doing, Bob and Jack prepared
to fire.
A wild shriek echoed along the deck.
"Stop that noise!" cried Bob, glancing round and seeing that Horton had
managed to ascend the companion ladder.
Bob had thrown up his rifle to his shoulder, when the weak voice of the
sailor arrested him in the act of firing.
"For heaven's sake, sir, don't fire! It's murder, nothing else."
As Horton spoke, the object of his solicitude, with incredible speed,
slid down the forestay and disappeared through the scuttle of the
forecastle.
"Please, sir, listen to me."
"All right; only be quick, and don't talk such nonsense about it's being
murder."
With their guns in their hands, and taking good care to shut the door
both at the top and bottom of the companionway, the two lads followed
Bok and Horton through the dark death-cabin and passage to the kitchen,
lit up by the cheerful firelight.
"Now, say what you have to, and be quick about it," cried our hero. "I
can't rest quiet when a huge wild animal is within a few yards of us,
though how it got there I can't imagine, for I thought there were no
such things in the polar regions."
"That animal, as you call him, is Charlow, one of our sailors.
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