After a little a ruddy brightness shone through the obscurity in their rear, as the red flames leaped higher. After this had died and vanished behind the heavy curtain of fog, came a sullen, booming detonation that shook the great floes, flung the men all asprawl on the ice, and left a frightful desolation in their hearts. “Forward!” shouted Frontin, and they struggled up. CHAPTER II WHEN FOG LIFTS, THE ROAD CLEARS Although dazed and momentarily paralyzed by the blow which felled him, Crawford did not quite lose consciousness. He dimly realized that he was being dragged back into the cabin by the Bostonnais; then felt himself lifted and placed in a chair and firmly lashed to it. Deakin rumbled with laughter. “A good blow, one worth learning! You’re not hurt--come around after a bit----” Deakin stamped out and ascended to the deck above. Sagging down in the chair with closed eyes, Crawford relaxed utterly and rested while he might, wasting no thought on his own carelessness; he had been caught, and must face the future instead of the past. After a time his senses cleared again and the agonized ache slowly passed from his head and neck and nerve-centers, until presently he dropped into a light doze. From this he was wakened by a heavy trampling on deck, and heard the stentorian tones of Deakin bellowed forth through a speaking trumpet. Deakin had a voice like brass. “Come back, come back!” roared the words, and again: “Come back!” So the Bostonnais was calling in his men. After a little Crawford jerked up his head and came wide awake as Deakin returned into the cabin. “Ha! The ice be on the move again, and if those fools o’ mine be not spry, they’ll get caught. Well, well--let’s have your ’bacca.” Stooping over his prisoner, Deakin swiftly searched him, throwing weapons, pipe and tobacco pouch to the table, and finally drawing forth the Star of Dreams on its thong. During a long moment he hesitated over the emerald jewel, greed fighting in his large eyes against a stronger fear; then he reluctantly shoved it back beneath Crawford’s shirt. “Not that, not that!” he rumbled heavily. “There’s wizardry in it, and I’ll ha’ no warlock after me o’ nights. ’Twas the star that brought ye here, yourself said it; and Moses Deakin knows when to let things bide. Nay, I’ll not touch the thing.” With this astonishing speech the fur-pirate lowered himself into his own chair, facing Crawford, stuffed his pipe with the Virginia tobacco, and made a light. Crawford held himself in check, realizing in a flash the singular streak of superstition in his captor and resolving to see whither it tended. Nor did Deakin long delay in setting forth the matter, displaying a great confidence in himself, an assurance in his own deductions and suppositions.