“Wait a little,” said Crayford.  “You were playing backgammon the other day with one of the officers.  Does the board belong to him or to you?”

“It belongs to me.  I have got it in my locker here.  What do you want with it?”

“I want the dice and the box for casting lots.  The captains have arranged—­most wisely, as I think—­that Chance shall decide among us who goes with the expedition and who stays behind in the huts.  The officers and crew of the Wanderer will be here in a few minutes to cast the lots.  Neither you nor any one can object to that way of deciding among us.  Officers and men alike take their chance together.  Nobody can grumble.”

“I am quite satisfied,” said Frank.  “But I know of one man among the officers who is sure to make objections.”

“Who is the man?”

“You know him well enough, too.  The ‘Bear of the Expeditions’ Richard Wardour.”

“Frank!  Frank! you have a bad habit of letting your tongue run away with you.  Don’t repeat that stupid nickname when you talk of my good friend, Richard Wardour.”

“Your good friend?  Crayford! your liking for that man amazes me.”

Crayford laid his hand kindly on Frank’s shoulder.  Of all the officers of the Sea-mew, Crayford’s favorite was Frank.

“Why should it amaze you?” he asked.  “What opportunities have you had of judging?  You and Wardour have always belonged to different ships.  I have never seen you in Wardour’s society for five minutes together.  How can you form a fair estimate of his character?”

“I take the general estimate of his character,” Frank answered.  “He has got his nickname because he is the most unpopular man in his ship.  Nobody likes him—­there must be some reason for that.”

“There is only one reason for it,” Crayford rejoined.  “Nobody understands Richard Wardour.  I am not talking at random.  Remember, I sailed from England with him in the Wanderer; and I was only transferred to the Sea-mew long after we were locked up in the ice.  I was Richard Wardour’s companion on board ship for months, and I learned there to do him justice.  Under all his outward defects, I tell you, there beats a great and generous heart.  Suspend your opinion, my lad, until you know my friend as well as I do.  No more of this now.  Give me the dice and the box.”

Frank opened his locker.  At the same moment the silence of the snowy waste outside was broken by a shouting of voices hailing the hut—­“Sea-mew, ahoy!”

Chapter 8.

The sailor on watch opened the outer door.  There, plodding over the ghastly white snow, were the officers of the Wanderer approaching the hut.  There, scattered under the merciless black sky, were the crew, with the dogs and the sledges, waiting the word which was to start them on their perilous and doubtful journey.