"Wall, you shorely goes the limit a whole corralful for sheer, blisterin', hell-freezin' coolness. You'd light a seegyar whilst you were prospectin' the bottomless pit, Jack." But Jack was watching the gathering birds. "Union is strength," he said musingly. "Closed ranks defence against an open order attack. Let's tie the life-buoys together." "Sech observations is plenty sagacious," commented Broncho approvingly, "an' I votes we acts tharon instanter. You bushwhack in here, Jim, between us two. This here hand has got to be played with care, if we-alls is goin' to avoid gettin' cold feet." Jack and Broncho still had their bundles of rope-yarns and rovings thrust through their belts, and with these they soon lashed the life-buoys securely together in the form of a triangle. "Now, let 'em all come!" cried Jim defiantly. "They're shore makin' war medicine," observed Broncho; "but I ain't in no frenzied hurry to begin the battle. Let 'em sachey around an' take their time." "Here comes a scout, boys," cried Jack, as a great, white-headed bird swooped gracefully towards them. "Take your seats, gents, the performance is about to commence," remarked Broncho coolly. But the albatross only circled slowly round, evidently rather diffident about beginning the attack. "He's cuttin' kyards with himself as to whether he'll jump in an' skeer us up some, or lope back an' make a report on our poseetion," was the cowboy's interpretation of the bird's actions. "He's going," exclaimed Jim, with a long breath of relief. "He's wise! It's just the tenderness of hell saves him from our bowies that time," drawled Broncho, with a grim smile. For nearly an hour they floated with knives drawn, but the fierce birds never came within range of the flashing steel again, though they kept wheeling round the castaways in a manner which was very trying to the nerves. About 2 p.m. the old whaler was only about a hundred yards off, and drifting right down upon them. "Let's give 'em a shout," proposed Jack. "A whaler would think nothing of launching a boat in this sea." "Whoopee!" yelled Broncho; but there was no sign of any one moving on the barque. "Co-oo-ee!" sang Jack; but still no result. "I'll soon wake 'em if they ain't all dead," declared Jim, and putting a finger in his mouth, he emitted an ear-piercing whistle, which swelled and sank like a siren. "That shore takes the pot for the shrillest, most searchin' whistle I ever hears," exclaimed Broncho. "It plumb near deafens me, an' I bet the limit it scurries up those sharps aboard there a whole lot." And Broncho was right, for now two heads appeared above the rail of the barque, and an arm was flourished. "Hurrah! we're seen," cried Jim. "Whatever species of men are they?" exclaimed the cowpuncher excitedly, as he scanned the distant heads with his keen, prairie-trained eyes. "Do you-alls notice anything strange about them whalers?" he asked of Jack. "Seem to have very blotchy faces."