"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.