He lowered his voice, and threw a furtive glance around him. It would be impossible to describe the frightful expression of the half-breed's face as he thus recalled the terrible scenes of the _Grampus_. And it was not the expression of a cannibal of Australia or the New Hebrides, but that of a man who is pervaded by an insurmountable horror of himself. "Was it not on the 1st of March, Dirk Peters," I asked, "that you perceived for the first time the veil of grey vapour shot with luminous and moving rays?" "I do not remember, sir, but if Pym says it was so, Pym must be believed." "Did he never speak to you of fiery rays which fell from the sky?" I did not use the term "polar aurora," lest the half-breed should not understand it. "Never, sir," said Dirk Peters, after some reflection. "Did you not remark that the colour of the sea changed, grew white like milk, and that its surface became ruffled around your boat?" "It may have been so, sir; I did not observe. The boat went on and on, and my head went with it." "And then, the fine powder, as fine as ashes, that fell--" "I don't remember it." "Was it not snow?" "Snow? Yes! No! The weather was warm. What did Pym say? Pym must be believed." He lowered his voice and continued: "But Pym will tell you all that, sir. He knows. I do not know. He saw, and you will believe him." "Yes, Dirk Peters, I shall believe him." "We are to go in search of him, are we not?" "I hope so." "After we shall have found William Guy and the sailors of the _Jane_!" "Yes, after." "And even if we do not find them?" "Yes, even in that case. I think I shall induce our captain. I think he will not refuse--" "No, he will not refuse to bring help to a man--a man like him!" "And yet," I said, "if William Guy and his people are living, can we admit that Arthur Pym--" "Living? Yes! Living!" cried the half-breed. "By the great spirit of my fathers, he is--he is waiting for me, my poor Pym! How joyful he will be when he clasps his old Dirk in his arms, and I--I, when I feel him, there, there." And the huge chest of the man heaved like a stormy sea. Then he went away, leaving me inexpressibly affected by the revelation of the tenderness for his unfortunate companion that lay deep in the heart of this semi-savage. In the meantime I said but little to Captain Len Guy, whose whole heart and soul were set on the rescue of his brother, of the possibility of our finding Arthur Gordon Pym. Time enough, if in the course of this strange enterprise of ours we succeeded in that object, to urge upon him one still more visionary.