Ben never flicked an eyelid.

"Ay, ay, sir," was all he said.

"I have a proposition to make to you," continued the captain. "We need
a bos'n, will you sign on? If you do not care to we will put you
ashore at the first convenient port or hail a homeward-bound ship and
have you transferred."

The old sailor looked positively hurt.

"What; me lose an opportunity to see the South Pole, to shoot Polar
bears--"

"There aren't any," put in Billy.

"Wall, whatever kind of critters there are there," went on the old
man, "no, sir; Ben Stubbs ain't the man to hold back on a venture like
this. Sign me on as bos'n, and if I don't help nail Uncle Sam's colors
to the South Pole call me a doodle-bug."

"A doodle-bug," exclaimed Professor Sandburr, "What kind of a bug is
that? If you know where to find them I hope you will catch one and
forward it to me."

Ben grinned.

"I guess doodle-bugs is like South Polar bears," he said.

"How is that, my dear sea-faring friend?"