“Plague take the gold, and them with it, you ruffian!” said Crawford. He could feel the strength ebbing out of him rapidly. “What brought you to aid me?” Frontin squinted at the bark, and made a slight gesture. “The Star of Dreams,” said he, and laughed thinly. “But tell me swiftly what you want me to do. I don’t think you’re hurt to death, yet in another minute the blood will be drained out of you----” “Some of the English aboard the ketch will join me. Get them. Set a course for the north. Tell Phelim not to fire the guns----” “And yonder ketch?” “Leave her here--for Vanderberg.” Crawford uttered a wild, swift laugh. “’Twas he and you gave the Star into my hands. Then I was a homeless, destitute wanderer, an escaped felon; now I’ve a stout ship, a heavy lading, true friends to aid, and the Star of Dreams to lead into the north--into the north, over the horizon--always over the horizon! Ay, after all----” “After all?” prompted Frontin, as the words failed weakly. “After all, Vanderberg made only one mistake--he--he opposed the--destiny of--the Star of--Dreams----” Crawford’s head drooped, and he pitched forward off the thwart, senseless. But Frontin, rapidly working the oar, glanced down at the reddening body with a thin smile. “Nay, nay!” he murmured. “That talk will do for fools, but not for me. Where poor Vanderberg made his mistake, was in opposing the destiny of Harry Crawford! _En avant_--the Star goes north, and I follow it. Immortality awaits us; whether we gain immortality by pike-thrust, bullet, or frost, what matter?” He shrugged a little, then dropped his oar and deftly caught the line flung to him by Sir Phelim Burke of Murtha. Ten minutes afterward, the bark was standing out of the cove toward the ice blink on the north horizon. _BOOK II_ THE FUR PIRATE CHAPTER I EVEN IN A WILDERNESS, ONE CANNOT ESCAPE THE DEVIL “If your Star Woman lies this way, cap’n,” said Frontin, “devil take me if I want to find her! This ice--ah! A shot in this wilderness? Was that a gunshot or an ice-creak?” Crawford seized his arm, stood listening. “A shot, true enough! Dead ahead of us. Bear to the left, I’ll bear to the right. Watch yourself!” The two men separated. Although it was August and the wide expanse of Hudson Bay was now open water, all the winter’s freeze was thrust here at the straits for exit, and not a ship had entered. No ship could fight this frozen sea until the jam burst. August, indeed? Here at the straits the very word was intolerable mockery.