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Under
the
approaching
smoke
the
hull
and
upper-works
of
a
steamer
were
growing
larger
.
It
was
the
Macedonia
.
I
read
her
name
through
the
glasses
as
she
passed
by
scarcely
a
mile
to
starboard
.
Wolf
Larsen
looked
savagely
at
the
vessel
,
while
Maud
Brewster
was
curious
.
"
Where
is
the
trouble
you
were
so
sure
was
breezing
up
,
Captain
Larsen
?
"
she
asked
gaily
.
He
glanced
at
her
,
a
moment
's
amusement
softening
his
features
.
"
What
did
you
expect
?
That
they
'd
come
aboard
and
cut
our
throats
?
"
"
Something
like
that
,
"
she
confessed
.
"
You
understand
,
seal-hunters
are
so
new
and
strange
to
me
that
I
am
quite
ready
to
expect
anything
.
"
He
nodded
his
head
.
"
Quite
right
,
quite
right
.
Your
error
is
that
you
failed
to
expect
the
worst
.
"
"
Why
,
what
can
be
worse
than
cutting
our
throats
?
"
she
asked
,
with
pretty
naive
surprise
.
"
Cutting
our
purses
,
"
he
answered
.
"
Man
is
so
made
these
days
that
his
capacity
for
living
is
determined
by
the
money
he
possesses
.
"
"
'
Who
steals
my
purse
steals
trash
,
'
"
she
quoted
.
"
Who
steals
my
purse
steals
my
right
to
live
,
"
was
the
reply
,
"
old
saws
to
the
contrary
.
For
he
steals
my
bread
and
meat
and
bed
,
and
in
so
doing
imperils
my
life
.
