The method of the natives who hunt the sea-otter is to make a surround with a fleet of bidarkas, much as they hunt the whale; but this, of course, was impossible now. None the less, Jimmy, who assumed the position of master of the hunt, motioned to the Aleut boy in the dory to keep off to the left, while he and Rob circled far to the right in the bidarka. To the Aleut mind nothing approaches a sea-otter hunt, for it affords not only the keenest sport, but the greatest possible financial reward. The method of the hunt is somewhat complicated in some of its features. When the otter dives the boats gather in a circle, and as soon as it appears every bowman does his best to strike it with an arrow. The first arrow to strike the otter makes the latter the property of the lucky bowman, who, of course, knows his own arrow by his mark. As, however, the first arrow may not stop the otter, the "owner," as the boats close in upon the game, may very probably call out what he will pay for another arrow lodged in the body of the otter. Instances have been known where the first bowman has in his excitement pledged away more in arrow-interest than the total value of the skin amounts to, so that he is actually loser instead of gainer by the transaction. The arrow closest to the tail is the one which most prevents the otter from diving; hence the value of the arrows is measured by the distance from the tail, the arrow of each man being so marked that it cannot be mistaken. All of this etiquette of the otter-hunt was, of course, unknown to the white boys, whose main interest, indeed, was one of sport rather than of profit. They were keen as the natives, none the less, and eagerly watched every signal given by the leader of the hunt. At last Jimmy held a paddle up in the air, a signal for the other boat to slow down. A moment later Rob spied the otter lying stretched out motionless on the water as though asleep, as indeed likely was the case, since that is the method of sleep practised by this species. Now, a few fathoms at a time, the native edged the bidarka up toward his game, precisely as the Aleut chief had approached the whale. The dory, no longer rowed furiously, but now paddled silently by John and Skookie, approached on the other side. As they now were on a comparatively smooth sea, and not more than fifty yards from the animal, Rob motioned to his companion to allow him to fire with his rifle, but the latter emphatically refused. He knew that an arrow safely lodged is more sure to bring the sea-otter into possession than a rifle-ball, which might kill it, only to cause it to sink and be lost. Jimmy now laid down his paddle, took up his bow and arrows, and signalled to Rob to paddle ahead slowly. A few yards farther he motioned for the headway to be checked, and just as the bidarka stopped he launched his barbed arrow with a savage grunt. The weapon flew true! A wide rush of bubbles showed where an instant before the otter had lain.