3io 



MaftrocR of 

 ffie Icebergs 



rf*S. 



would shoot up out of the water directly in 

 front of him. One swift, crushing blow of 

 the terrible paw, and the seal would be dead 

 without a thought of what had happened 

 to him. 



So Matwock lived and hunted for a week, 

 growing fat and contented again. Then 

 the seals vanished on one of their sudden 

 migrations — following the fish, no doubt — 

 and for a week more he hunted without a 

 mouthful. One night, when he returned late 

 to his cave, the great iceberg had broken its 

 anchorage and drifted well out of the tickle, 

 and from the harbor the smell of fresh fish 

 drifted into his hungry nostrils. For the day 

 had been sunny and calm, and the starving 

 fishermen had slipped out to the Hook-and- 

 rrsSSiyel Line Grounds and brought back exultingly 

 the first cod of the season. 



Again Matwock came ashore, tired as 

 he was after an all-day's swim, and headed 

 straight for the good smell in the village. The 

 big deadfall was set in his path, baited with 

 fresh offal, and the log was weighted twice 



* r ~. as heavily as 





■«*■ ft 



M ,,wv 



. :m 



r^r 



