"You're not going to kill anybody?" Helen Marr asked, after a moment's pause.

"Not unless they try to harm you," Stirling replied.

The girl raised her chin and thrust out her right hand. "I was always a wild creature," she said. "Father died soon after I was born, and mother let me run wild in Concord. Then uncle came from across the sea. He always liked me; once he took me to England on a voyage. It was a Boston ship he owned an interest in. I can reef and steer. I had a sloop in Maine—all one summer."

"Can you handle a rifle?"

"Yes. Only I don't want to kill anybody."

Stirling stepped to a gun rack on the starboard side of the cabin, went over the rifles racked there, and picked out a light gun which Marr had brought North for shooting seals.

"We'll load this," he said, laying it across the table. "It's yours in case of trouble. The revolutionists are getting into deep ice and the time is coming when they will call on me. I may have to take command of the ship. Otherwise——"

His pause was suggestive. Helen Marr stared out through the nearest porthole, then turned with a pucker showing at the corner of her mouth. "What were you going to say?" she asked.

"Otherwise we will be cast away in the land that Heaven forgot. There is nothing up here but death and starvation. There is no food or shelter; there is only cold and ice and desolation. It is almost all unexplored. Coronation Gulf, where we are heading, leads to Victoria Strait and Lancaster Sound. The passage was never made."

"But the Russians may make it. Isn't the season an open one?"

"So open that I fear we will go too far to turn back. There's coal enough aboard to take us to Baffin Bay."

"Uncle has been there."

"But not from this side of the world." Stirling glanced about the cabin and then stepped over to an ornate bookcase beneath which was a drawer filled with maps.

He unrolled a map and spread it across the table. "Come here," he said, nodding to the girl. "I'll show you where we are and where we're heading."

The girl stepped close to his side and leaned over the chart, following his pointing finger as he traced a course from Point Barrow to the mouth of the Mackenzie River. "From there," he said, "we may strike two ways. The most likely course is through Coronation Gulf, and then by Boothia Gulf, but there's another route to the eastward. It leads west by the compass and around this land." Stirling pressed his thumb on a maze of inlets and narrow straits. "If the revolutionists try that course we're cast away in the polar pack. It'll be all up with you and me."

The girl drew back the chart and raised her finger to her lips, almost pouting as she asked: "Are you afraid?"

Stirling stammered and rolled up the chart with a swift motion of his right palm. "Not exactly afraid," he said; "but with the crew on deck that we have, there is every chance of getting nipped."

"Nipped?"

"Yes! Caught in the ice and crushed. Many ships have had that happen. I remember the Beluga and the Prince Charles and the schooner Rosy Enders. They all were nipped to the eastward of Herschel Island. We're in the same waters."

"But wouldn't it be splendid if the Russians got through to Baffin Bay? Just think what the world would say. The Northwest Passage!"

"The Northeast," corrected Stirling, with a faint smile.

"Isn't there a big reward for going around the American Continent?"

"There was; I don't know about it now. The Norwegians did it in a little ship, but it took them years."

The girl moved across the cabin and pressed her face to the nearest porthole, then turned and found Stirling's eyes fastened upon her.

"I see lots of ice," she said, naÏvely. "There's ice everywhere."

"Except ahead. We're going down a lane of open water between the floes and the shore. Cape Bathurst should soon be sighted."

The girl turned her head and glanced through the porthole. "I see land!" she exclaimed, with a quiver in her voice. "It doesn't look so terrible. There're green moss and trees—I think they are trees."

"Arctic pines," Stirling said. "It's No Man's Land on this side of the world. You stand watch with that Remington and I'll go look that sailor over. He must be hungry."

Stirling moved toward the curtain as the girl turned away from the open porthole and stepped to the table where the rifle lay. She lifted it, and frowned in perplexity as her fingers toyed with the trigger guard and cocking mechanism.

Suddenly she wheeled and laid down the rifle. "I couldn't shoot anybody," she said, staring across the cabin. "Nobody is going to bother us, now."

"I'm not so sure, Miss Marr. There's a time coming when the revolutionists will be in distress. Then there's Slim to reckon with. He might escape while I'm sleeping. You know I haven't slept for days—just a nap now and then in the crow's-nest and the shaft alley."

Stirling hurried to the dock rat's cabin and pressed open the door after inserting the key in the lock. Slim sat up and twisted his body.

"Nice way you've left me," he said, bitterly.

Stirling examined the bonds and smiled grimly, but he did not answer the sailor. He glanced about the cabin, saw that the porthole was fastened securely, then hurried back to the girl.

"Please get biscuits and water," he said. "That sailor is doing fine. If he doesn't keep it up I'll turn him over to the revolutionists."

"He was all right until after uncle died," Helen said. "Then he started drinking and saying things to me. I wasn't afraid of him, only——"

"Only," interrupted Stirling, "you should have kept that little revolver. I appreciated it, but you needed it worse than I did. Here it is."

Stirling dropped his hand into his pocket and brought out the little silver-plated gun. "Take it, please," he said, "and—will you get me some biscuits and water? I'll feed the sailor."

The girl hurried through an after doorway, opened some tins in a small pantry, and returned with a tray of crackers. She set these on the table, and drew a pitcher of water from the tap in the cabin.

Stirling studied her motions, and dreamed of a fairy or an elf. He was staring at the steps which led to the cabin companion as she offered him the pitcher of water. His eyes dropped, and his lips grew firm. "I'll be back soon," he said in a far-off voice. "You watch for the revolutionists. Fire that rifle if they attempt to get down."

The sailor took the offering with bad grace, as Stirling propped him up in the bunk and released one hand so that he could eat. He retied him securely as the last of the crackers was consumed between yellow teeth.

"Stay right there," said Stirling, as he closed the door. "Better keep mighty quiet, too," he added, sternly, as he drew the key from the lock.

The girl had climbed partly up the companionway steps, and she turned, drawing her skirts about her ankles as she saw Stirling coming from the forward alleyway.

"What's up there?" he asked, setting the empty pitcher and tray on the table. "Can you see anything, Miss Marr?"

"The leader and two other revolutionists are at the wheel," she said. "They are puzzled over something. I think the leader wants to steer toward the north."

The girl pointed at the port side of the ship, and Stirling shook his head. "That's west now," he said. "It's magnetic west. You see the directions are all changed. We're heading north by the compass. If he changes to the west it means that he is going to try and clear Banks Land. That'll lead us to Melville Sound. It may be open."

Helen Marr lifted her chin and beamed into Stirling's face. "There's sunshine on the ice," she said, pointing out through a starboard porthole. "See it? You should smile. I don't think we are in any danger."

Stirling caught the contagion of youth and high spirits. The season was so remarkable that he doubted his own senses, for the Pole Star was steaming at twelve knots through waters which were usually closed to all save the lucky ships in the whaling service. The progress from Point Barrow had been continuous. They had gone farther east than most Arctic expeditions, and the way north was clear save for small ice floes. It might be possible to reach Melville Sound and unknown straits leading to Baffin Bay.

The Ice Pilot bent his head and thought deeply, but the ship suddenly swerved, and he straightened. The sunshine now streamed through the after starboard portholes of the cabin, striking across the racks of the table and bringing out the details of the bookshelves and piano.

Helen Marr clapped her hands, ran to the porthole nearest the after bulkhead, and peered out, then turned with eyes of flame. "See," she said, "we're going north now—or west. There's open water and an open sea. Oh, I'm glad of it!"

Her slight body flitted to the piano. She drew down the cover and pulled out a stool. The music she played was familiar to Stirling:

"Whither, oh, splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,

Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,

Thou fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,

Whither away fair rover, and what thy quest?"

The girl turned on the revolving stool and glanced toward Stirling. "How do you like that?" she asked, blithely. "Do you want more?"

Stirling smiled and nodded, and her fingers strayed over the ivory keys for a moment. The song she sang was new to Stirling, but as he listened, he heard above the silver-running notes another sound. Steps came overhead; a shadow blotted out the glass of the deck light. The Russian leader had been attracted by the music, and he was joined by one of the revolutionists. The two Russians stood in rapt attention as Helen Marr sang to her own accompaniment:

"The fair wind blew, the white foam flew,

The furrow followed free;

And we were the first that ever burst

Into that silent sea."

The girl turned. "That's from the 'Ancient Mariner,'" she said. "I set it to music. I think it's appropriate, don't you, Mr. Stirling?"

"The silent sea part is," he said. "I shouldn't wonder if you sang the truth. Even the leader was interested. I wonder if he understands English?"

The two in the cabin stared up at the shadows on the deck light, and these shadows moved away as the girl rose from the piano stool and came across the deck.

"You had better go into the stateroom and get some sleep, Mr. Stirling," she suggested. "You look tired and worn. Sleep would do you a world of good. I'll stand guard."

Stirling climbed the companion steps and tested the barricade of oak timbers which Marr and Slim had fitted, then came down and went forward to the curtain. A second doorway, which was at the end of the alley, had been nailed shut with three-inch spikes, and there seemed no way for the revolutionists to break into the after part of the ship.

He moved the table over the hole he had cut in the deck, and upon this piled stools and a bookcase for a barricade.

"Let me know if anything happens," Stirling said, as he stepped toward Marr's stateroom. "Be sure and do that!"

The girl lifted the rifle and stood at attention. "Good-night!" she said. "Shut the door; I'll wake you if it's necessary."