“_You’ve been to the North pole!_” I managed to gasp out at last. “But
I thought it was still undiscovered. The map shows all the places
explorers have reached to, _trying_ to get there. Why isn’t your name
down if you discovered it?”
“I promised to keep it a secret. And you must promise me never to
tell any one. Yes, I discovered the North Pole in April, 1809. But
shortly after I got there the polar bears came to me in a body and
told me there was a great deal of coal there, buried beneath the snow.
They knew, they said, that human beings would do anything, and go
anywhere, to get coal. So would I please keep it a secret. Because
once people began coming up there to start coal-mines, their beautiful
white country would be spoiled—and there was nowhere else in the world
cold enough for polar bears to be comfortable. So of course I had to
promise them I would. Ah, well, it will be discovered again some day,
by somebody else. But I want the polar bears to have their play-ground
to themselves as long as possible. And I daresay it will be a good
while yet—for it certainly is a fiendish place to get to—Well now, are
we ready?—Good! Take the pencil and stand here close to the table. When
the book falls open, wave the pencil round three times and jab it down.
Ready?—All right. Shut your eyes.”
It was a tense and fearful moment—but very thrilling. We both had our
eyes shut tight. I heard the atlas fall open with a bang. I wondered
what page it was: England or Asia. If it should be the map of Asia, so
much would depend on where that pencil would land. I waved three times
in a circle. I began to lower my hand. The pencil-point touched the
page.
“All right,” I called out, “it’s done.”
_THE TWELFTH CHAPTER_