CROSSING THE GREAT LEAD
In less than a quarter of a minute more they came in sight of the
walrus, stretched out on the ice close to the lead. It was a large
specimen, weighing a good many hundred pounds, and as awkward as it was
heavy.
At the sight of the man and boys the beast raised itself up slightly and
started as if to turn back into the water. As it did this, Barwell
Dawson raised the rifle, took steady aim, and sent a bullet through its
head.
"That's a fine shot!" exclaimed Andy as the walrus fell back, uttering a
roar of pain. "Shall I give it another?"
"Might as well," was the explorer's answer, and the lad quickly
complied, the shot scattering into the walrus's head, killing it almost
instantly.
Scarcely had the echo of the discharge penetrated the air, when there
came a number of loud roars from a little further around the icy hill.
The hunters advanced, and Chet uttered a yell:
"Look! look! Did you ever see so many walruses in your life!"
He pointed ahead, but there was no need to do this, for all saw, only a
couple of hundred feet away, a veritable herd of walruses numbering at
least a hundred if not twice that number. They had heard the death-cry
of their mate, and were lumbering forward to see what was the matter.
"We can't fight such a crowd as that!" exclaimed Andy, aghast. "We had
better clear out."
"I wish the Esquimaux were here," returned Barwell Dawson. "We could
make a mighty haul of walrus meat, and that is what we need." He looked
at the boys. "Who is the better runner of you two?" he asked.
"Andy," answered Chet, promptly. "He can outrun me twice over."
"Then supposing you leg it for camp just as hard as you can," continued
the explorer. "Tell the Esquimaux and Mr. Camdal to come as quickly as
possible."
Without waiting for more words, Andy was off like a shot, directly past
the walruses, who simply raised themselves up to gaze stupidly at him.
The others had withdrawn from sight, and when the beasts saw Andy
running away they thought themselves alone. Slowly they lumbered over
the ice and surrounded their dead companion, uttering hoarse roars that
could be heard a long way off.
Andy had the direction of the camp well in mind, and made as straight a
run for it as the nature of the ice permitted. With such heavy clothing
a record run was impossible, yet he covered the distance in good time.
He found the Esquimaux outside of their _igloos_, listening to the
roaring of the walruses, which could be heard far away over the ice. He
soon made them acquainted with what was wanted, and with a glad shout
they started off with their spears and bows and arrows. Then he aroused
Mr. Camdal, and the latter got his shotgun and an ax.
"An ax is sometimes better than a gun," explained Mr. Camdal. "You can
sometimes crush a walrus's skull with one well-aimed blow from an ax."
The Esquimaux were ahead, but the others soon caught up with them. The
walruses were still roaring and bellowing. One of the natives said this
was a sign that they were getting ready to move.
As they drew closer, the Esquimaux spread out in a semicircle, and held
up their spears ready for use. Olalola was in the lead, for he was
considered by all to be the best hunter.
The walruses were found almost where they had been when Andy went for
aid. A few surrounded the dead beast, sniffing the carcass suspiciously.
Evidently they had never been hunted, and did not know the meaning of a
gunshot.
As soon as the Esquimaux were sufficiently close, they threw their
spears, and followed these up with a number of arrows. In the meantime
the others discharged their firearms, and then Mr. Camdal rushed in
boldly with his ax. By this means eight of the huge creatures were laid
low before they could help themselves. The others turned to gain the
open water, and went sousing in, sending the icy spray in all
directions.
In his enthusiasm, Chet had drawn close to the lead, and before he knew
it he found two of the walruses confronting him. He dodged one, but the
other beast knocked him flat with one blow of a flipper. It looked as if
his life would be crushed out a moment later.
Andy saw his chum fall, and for the moment his heart leaped into his
throat. Then he jumped to the front, and sent a bullet into the breast
of the walrus. But this was not fatal, and the walrus still lurched
forward.
"Pull Chet away!" yelled Mr. Dawson, and fired from a distance, the
bullet hitting the walrus just below the head. Then a spear whizzed
through the air, thrown by Olalola. This caught the beast in the mouth,
and went part way down its throat. The walrus flopped backward, and at
that moment Andy caught his chum by the leg, and dragged him out of
danger. Then Mr. Camdal came to the front, and a blow from the ax
finished the beast.
The battle was now practically over, for the walruses that were alive
had taken to the water. Those that were badly wounded could not swim
very well, and the Esquimaux went after them, bringing in two. The total
killing amounted to thirteen.
"That's a lucky thirteen," was Barwell Dawson's comment, after the
excitement was over. "The meat is just what we want, for the Esquimaux
and the dogs, and the hides will come in handy, for footwear and
harness."
It was no easy task to get the walruses and the polar bear to the camp,
and several of the dog sledges had to be brought up for that purpose.
Then two days were spent in getting the meat ready for use, and in
preparing the hides.
It was a clear, cold day when the next start northward was made. A light
wind blew from the westward. Barwell Dawson calculated that they might
cover twenty, if not twenty-five, miles.
"From now on we must do our best," said he. "We can afford no more
delays, otherwise our food supply may give out before we get back."
Fortunately all were in the best of health, although Professor Jeffer
suffered a little from snow-blindness. He at once donned a pair of
smoked goggles, and several of the others did likewise.
The end of the week found them a hundred and fifteen miles closer to the
Pole. They had encountered two leads, but had managed to get across
without great difficulty. One of the sledges had been badly damaged, and
it was resolved to break it up, and use the parts in repairing the other
turnouts. Two of the dogs were sick, and had to be killed.
The next day the weather changed, and for forty-eight hours they
struggled on through a heavy snowstorm, with the wind fortunately on
their backs. During this storm one of the sledges fell into some open
water, and three dogs were drowned, while a small portion of the outfit
went out of sight into the Arctic Sea.
"All hands must be more careful after this," said Barwell Dawson. "As we
advance, going will probably become more treacherous. Keep your eyes
wide open."
As soon as it cleared off, Professor Jeffer brought out his sextant and
his artificial horizon (a pan of mercury), and took an observation. He
announced that they were close to the eighty-fourth degree of north
latitude.
"That means we have but six more degrees to cover,--about four hundred
miles," said Chet.
"Professor, will you explain how you take the observation?" asked Andy.
"To be sure, certainly," was the reply of the scientist. "It is very
easy when one knows how. Here is the sextant, shaped, as you can see,
like a piece of pie. The curved side has a scale on it, which is just
one-sixth of a circle, hence the name of the instrument. Here is a
telescope which is adjustable, and here are two glasses, one for the
rays of the sun, or a star, and one for the horizon. At sea, I would use
the natural horizon, but that is impossible here amongst the ice and
snow, and so I use an artificial horizon made of a pan of mercury.
"When I want to take an observation, I watch my chronometer and wait
until it is exactly twelve o'clock. Then I point the sextant in such a
fashion that the rays of the sun, reflected downward, seem to meet or
'kiss' the horizon. As soon as I have the light of the sun in a direct
range with the horizon, I use this thumbscrew, which sets the scale
below, which, as you see, is divided into degrees, minutes, and seconds.
As soon as I have read the scale by means of this magnifying glass, I
consult this book I carry, the Ephemeris, or Nautical Almanac, and
knowing the altitude of the sun, I readily calculate just where we are
located, in degrees, minutes, and seconds north latitude."
"It's certainly a great instrument," said Andy. "I'd like to try it some
day."
"You shall do so," answered Professor Jeffer, and the very next day he
allowed Andy to aid him in getting a true sight, and showed the boy how
to work out the necessary calculations, and also make some
allowances,--for such observations are not absolutely perfect in
themselves.
They had now to advance with more caution than ever, and several days
later came to some open water that looked as if it would bar all further
progress. The lead was six or seven hundred feet wide, and ran east and
west as far as eye could reach.
"Looks as if we were stumped," murmured Chet. "How are we ever going to
get across?"
A consultation was held, and then Barwell Dawson sent one party of
Esquimaux to the eastward, and another to the westward, to look for a
crossing place.
The Esquimaux were gone for two days, and during that time a fierce
snowstorm came up, blotting out the landscape on all sides. It was so
cold that the boys could do nothing outside, and were glad enough to
crouch in an _igloo_ for warmth. During the snowstorm, more of the dogs
became sick, and four of the finest of the animals died.
"Something is wrong with them," said Barwell Dawson, and had Dr. Slade
make an examination. It was then learned that the dogs had been poisoned
by eating tainted seal meat. The meat was inspected, and over a hundred
pounds thrown away.
When the natives who had been sent out came back, they reported that to
the east and the west the lead was wider than ever.
"Any smooth, floating ice?" asked Barwell Dawson.
Yes, some smooth ice had been seen, and the explorer went out the next
day to investigate. As a result some large cakes were floated close to
the temporary camp, and these were lashed together with walrus thongs.
"What do you intend to do with those?" questioned Professor Jeffer.
"I am going to try to get across to the other side," answered Barwell
Dawson. "We'll use the flat ice for a ferry."
"It's a dangerous piece of business, sir."
"I know it. But we must do something," was the firm answer.
Two of the Esquimaux agreed to get on the floating cakes of ice, taking
with them one of the teams and a sledge. It was no easy matter to induce
the dogs to go aboard, as it might be called, and the natives were a
good hour getting started. But once afloat, they crossed the lead
without serious danger, and then began the task of getting the rest of
the expedition over. This took all of that day, and also the next. On
one of the trips an Esquimau went overboard, and Dr. Slade also took an
icy bath, but both were quickly rescued, and bundled up in clothing that
was dry and warm.
"There, I am glad we are over that lead!" exclaimed Barwell Dawson, when
the last of the men and sledges had crossed. "I trust we don't have any
more of the sort to cross."
"I am afraid we'll have a great many," answered Professor Jeffer.
"Getting to the North Pole is going to be the hardest kind of a
struggle."
"We'll get there--if we keep our health, and the provisions last," said
the explorer, confidently.
Once again they turned northward, into that vast region of ice, and
snow, and solitude. It was certainly a gigantic undertaking. Would they
succeed, or would all their struggles go for naught?