When, at last, the engines were stopped, a party of sixty was formed in a haphazard fashion; the boats were lowered in haste, and the men leaped and tumbled into them, crowding them down to the gunwales. In one of the boats were Archie and Billy, the former in the care of Bill o' Burnt Bay, to whom the "nursing" was not altogether agreeable, under the circumstances; the latter in charge of himself, a lenient guardian, but a wise one.

"Don't get into trouble with the crew o' the Lucky Star," had been the captain's last command.

The men landed, hurrahing, and at once organized into half a dozen separate expeditions. The direction to be taken by each was determined by the leaders, and they set off at a dog trot upon their diverging paths over the ice to the widely distributed seal pack. Meantime, the boats were taken back to the ship and hoisted in; and the ship steamed off to land another party on another field, thence to land the last party near a third pack.

The boys trotted in Bill's wake. Two pennant bearers, carrying flags to mark the heaps of "fat," as they should be formed, led the file. One of these men—it happened by chance, to all appearances—was the captain's enemy, Tim Tuttle. Their work was particularly important on that day, with the crew of the Lucky Star working so near at hand; for the flags were to mark the ownership of the mounds of "fat," and any tampering with these "brands" would be likely to precipitate a violent encounter between the men of the rival ships.

"I'm thinkin' 'twill snow afore night," Bill panted, as they ran along; and, indeed, it appeared that it would.

The advance soon had to be made with caution. The hunters were so near the pack that the whines of the white coats could be heard. Archie could make out not only the harps, but the blow-holes beside which they lay in family groups. At this point the men formed in twos and threes, and dispersed. In a few minutes more, they rushed upon the prey, striking right and left.

The ice was soon strewn with dead seals. It was harvest time for these impoverished Newfoundlanders. Lives of seals for lives of men and women! Bill o' Burnt Bay had ten "kids" at home, and he was merciless and mighty in destruction.

Archie and Billy came upon a family of four, lying at some distance from their blow-hole—two grown harps, a "jar," which is a one year old seal, and a ranger, which is three years old and spotted like a leopard. Billy attacked the ranger without hesitation. Archie raised his gaff above the fluffy little jar, which was fanning itself with its flipper, and whining.

"I can't do it!" he exclaimed, lowering his club, and turning away, faint at heart; then "Look, Billy!" he cried, in half amused wonderment.

The old seals had wriggled off to the blow-hole, moving upon their flippers, in short jumps, as fast as a man could walk. Apparently they had reached the hole at the same instant, which was not wide enough to admit them both. Neither would give way to the other. They were stuck fast, their heads below, their fat bodies above.

Their selfish haste was their undoing. Billy was not loath to take advantage of their predicament.

Thus, everywhere, the men were at work. There was no friction with the crew of the Lucky Star; the whole party worked amicably, and almost side by side. When they had dispersed the pack, the "sculping" knives were drawn, and the labour of skinning was vigorously prosecuted. The skins, with the blubber adhering, were piled in heaps of six or more, according to the strength of the men who were to "tow" them to the edge of the field, where the ship was to return in the evening; and every "tow" was marked with an Armstrong and Son flag.

The Lucky Star's recall gun surprised the men before the work was finished. They looked up to find that the dusk was upon them, and that the snow was falling—falling ever more thickly, and drifting with the wind. The men of the Lucky Star stopped work, hurriedly saw to it that their heaps of pelt were all marked, and started on a run for the ship; for, on the ice fields, the command of the recall gun is never disregarded.

"There goes the Dictator's gun," shouted one of the men.

A second boom added force to the warning. The captain was evidently anxious to have his men safe out of the storm; the "fat" could be taken aboard in the morning. So Bill o' Burnt Bay, who was in tacit command of the party, called his men about him, and led the return. It was a mile over the ice to the Dictator, which lay waiting, with the second and third parties aboard. He was in haste; moreover, he had Sir Archibald Armstrong's son in his care: perhaps, that is why he did not stop to count the Dictator's heaps of pelt before he started.

"Come, now, Tuttle, don't lag!" he shouted, ambitious to have his party return with no delay.

But Tuttle still lagged—or, rather, ran from heap to heap of pelt, as though to make sure that each was marked. He busied himself, indeed, until the party was well in advance—until, as he thought, there was no eye to see what he did under cover of the driving snow. Then he quickly snatched Lucky Star flags from half a dozen heaps of "fat," cast them away, and planted Dictator flags in their stead—a dishonourable duty which the house-flag of Armstrong & Son had never before been made to do.

Quite sure, now, that he had shot an arrow that would sorely wound Captain Hand and the firm of Armstrong & Son, Tuttle ran after his party. When he was yet some distance behind, he turned about, and saw a small figure following him. He stopped dead—and waited until that small figure came up.

"Topsail," he demanded, "what you been doin' back there?"

Billy was very much frightened; but he was a truthful boy, and he now told the truth. "Been sculpin' an' pilin' me swiles, sir," he stammered.

"Has you been touchin' them flags?"

"N-n-no, sir. I didn't have no time. I was afeared I'd get lost in the snow."

Tuttle caught the boy by the shoulders, and stared fiercely into his eyes. "Did you see what I done?" he demanded.

Billy was strongly tempted to choose the easier way; but, as I have said, he was a truthful lad, and a brave lad, too. The temptation passed in a moment, and he fearlessly returned Tuttle's stare.

"Yes, sir," he said.

"If you tells Cap'n Hand what you saw," said Tuttle, tightening his grip, and bringing his face close to the lad's, "I'll——"

He did not complete the threat. Billy Topsail's imagination, as he knew, would conceive the most terrible revenge.

"Yes, sir," Billy gasped, vacantly; for he was more frightened than he had ever before been in his short life.

That was all. They ran at full speed after their party, and soon joined it. Tuttle kept at Billy's side while they were getting aboard the ship, kept at his side while supper was served in the forecastle, kept at his side through the short evening; kept at his side all the time, in a haunting, threatening way that frightened Billy as nothing else could, until the lad, tired out and utterly discouraged as to the purpose he had formed, turned in, no less to escape Tuttle, who had now grown hateful to him, than to rest.

"Oh," he thought, "if Archie had on'y come t' the fo'c's'le this night, I might 'a' told him; but now—I thinks—I'll be afeared, in the mornin'."