In this walrus party there were, besides the two fathers, mothers with children of various ages, from the "little ones" of four hundred pounds, to the "young folks." Of course they were a loving, happy group. The boat came within a few times its length of the ice-raft. Miller, an old whaleman, was in the bow of the boat with a harpoon. Hayes, Knorr, and Jensen stood in the stern with their rifles leveled each at his selected victim, while the oarsmen bent forward to their oars. At the word the rifles cracked, and the oarsmen at the same moment shot the boat into the midst of the startled walrus. Jensen hit one of the males in the neck, not probably doing him much harm; Hayes's ball struck the other bull in the head, at which he roared lustily. Knorr killed a baby walrus dead, but he disappeared from the raft with the rest, probably pushed off by his mamma. When the old fellow which was wounded by the commander rolled into the water, Miller planted his harpoon in him with unerring skill, and the line attached spun out over the gunwale with fearful velocity. There were a few moments of suspense, and then up came the herd, a few yards from the boat, the wounded bull with the harpoon among them. They uttered one wild, united shriek, and answering shrieks from thousands of startled walruses, on the walrus laden ice-rafts for miles around, filled the air. It was an agonized cry for help, and the answering cry was, "we come!" There was a simultaneous splash from the ice-rafts, and the hosts, as if by the bugle call, came rushing on, heads erect, and uttering the defiant "huk, huk, huk!" They came directly at the boat, surrounding it, and blackening the waters with their numbers. The wounded bull, attached still to Miller's line, led the attack. The hunters had aroused foemen worthy of their steel, and they must now fight or die. It seemed to be the purpose of the walruses to get their tusks over the side of the boat, and so easily tear it to pieces or sink it, and then, having its audacious crew in the water, make short work of them. As they came on, Miller, in the bow, pricked them in the face with his lance, the rowers pushed them back with their oars, while Hayes, Jensen, and Knorr sent, as fast as they could load and fire, rifle-balls crashing through their heads. At one time a huge leader had come within a few feet of the boat. Hayes and Jensen had just fired, and were loading, but Knorr was just in time to salute him with a ball. The men were becoming weary, while the walrus assaulting column was constantly supplied with fresh troops. The situation was now critical, when, as if to crush his enemy and end the conflict in victory on his side, a walrus Goliath, with tusks three feet long, led on a solid column of undismayed warriors. Two guns had just been fired, as before. His terrible weapons were fearfully near the gunwale, when Knorr's gun came to the rescue; its muzzle was so near his open mouth