ON A FLOATING MASS OF ICE
"One hundred and thirty miles more, Andy!"
"Who said so?"
"Professor Jeffer. He just took an observation," answered Chet, as he
crawled into the _igloo_ and slapped his mittened hands to get them
warm.
Andy shook his head slowly. "Chet, it doesn't look as if we'd make it,
does it?"
"Barwell Dawson says we are going to make it, or die in the attempt."
"Well, I'm just as eager, almost, as he is. But eagerness isn't going to
make these leads close up, and isn't going to give us extra food and
drink."
"Getting sick of pemmican and walrus meat?"
"Aren't you?"
"Rather--but there is no use in kicking."
"Say, do you know what day this is?"
"No."
"The first of April. Maybe some folks would call us April fools, to try
to reach the Pole."
Here the two boys became silent, for both were too tired and too cold to
do much talking.
The last few weeks of traveling had been very bad,--so bad in fact that
half of the Esquimaux had been turned back, to make a camp and wait the
return of the others. Mr. Camdal had been taken sick, and he had been
left behind, and now Dr. Slade was ailing, and so were two of the
natives. Sixteen of the dogs had perished, and their bodies had been fed
to the other canines.
The hardships had been beyond the power of pen to describe. They had
encountered numerous snowstorms, and a cutting west wind had for three
days made traveling impossible. The smooth ice had given way to little
hills and ridges that battered the sledges frightfully. One more had
gone to pieces, and the parts had been used for mending purposes, as
before.
The effects of the hardships were beginning to tell on everybody. The
boys were thin and hollow-eyed, and when they walked, or, rather, toiled
along, their legs felt like lead. To get up any speed was impossible,
and if in ten hours' walking they managed to cover fifteen or twenty
miles they thought they were doing well. The glare on the ice and snow
also affected them, so that their eyes appeared like little slits.
Professor Jeffer had been in danger of having his nose frost-bitten, but
the boys had noticed it just in time, and come to the old scientist's
rescue by rubbing the member with soft snow, thus putting the blood
again in circulation.
"Well, lads, how do you feel?" asked Barwell Dawson, as he entered the
_igloo_, followed by Professor Jeffer. "Dead tired, I suppose."
"Tired doesn't fit it," answered Chet, with a sickly grin. "I am
next-door to being utterly played out."
"Perhaps I had better leave you two boys behind, while Professor Jeffer
and myself, with one sledge, make the final dash."
"No; now I've come so far I'm going to stick it out," answered Chet,
grittily.
"And so am I," added Andy. "I guess we'll feel better after a good
sleep," he went on, hopefully.
A few minutes later all sank into a profound slumber, from which they
did not awaken until well in the morning. Then the barking of the dogs
and the shouting of one of the Esquimaux made them leap up and crawl
outside.
"Olalola says the wind has died down," said Barwell Dawson. "We may as
well make the most of it."
A hasty breakfast was prepared, and inside of half an hour they were
again on the way, toiling over ice that was rough in the extreme. They
pushed on steadily until noon, when, it being bright sunlight, Professor
Jeffer took another observation.
"One hundred and sixteen miles more," he said, after his calculations
were complete. "We are gradually lessening the distance! We shall make
it after all!" And his face showed his enthusiasm. To such a scientist
as the professor, gaining the Pole meant far more than it did to the
boys.
In the middle of the afternoon came another setback. Another lead came
into view, broad, and with the water flowing swiftly. At this the
Esquimaux shook their heads dismally.
"We cannot go over that," said one, in his native tongue.
"We must," answered Barwell Dawson, briefly. With the North Pole so
close at hand, he was determined that nothing should keep him from
reaching the goal.
The party gathered at the edge of the lead, and there found the ice
cracked and uncertain. Andy was with Olalola, who had a sledge drawn now
by but six dogs.
Suddenly, as the men were walking up and down the shore looking for some
means of crossing the water, there came an ominous cracking. Andy tried
to leap back, and so did Olalola, but ere they could do so the ice upon
which they and the dogs and sledge were located broke away from the main
field, and floated out into the lead.
"Look out, there!" exclaimed Chet, in horror.
"Throw us a rope!" yelled Andy, while Olalola uttered a cry in his
native language.
But no rope was handy, and in a few seconds the strong current of the
water carried the cake of ice far out into the lead. It still kept its
balance, but there was no telling how soon it might turn over and send
Andy, the Esquimau, and the dogs to their death.
"Oh, we must save Andy!" screamed Chet. "What can we do?"
"We'll do all we can," answered the explorer.
He ran to one of the loads and tore from it a long rope. Then he hurried
along the edge of the lead, in the direction whence the current was
carrying the flat cake of ice with its human freight.
Andy and Olalola saw the movement, and both understood at once that they
must make some sort of a fastening for the rope, should they be able to
catch it. With a sharp-pointed knife, Andy picked away a small hole, and
in it set a peg taken from the sledge.
While the lad was doing this, Barwell Dawson curled up the rope as if it
were a lasso. His outings on the plains now stood him in good stead, and
he threw the end of the rope with the skill of a cowboy lassoing cattle.
Olalola caught it and slipped it over the peg, and then he and Andy did
all they could to hold the peg in the ice.
It now became a question if the explorer could haul the floating ice in,
or if the current would be too strong for him. Chet came to his aid, and
so did two of the Esquimaux.
"Beware of where you stand!" sang out Chet. "The shore is cracked all
along here!"
This was true, and all were in danger of going down. The ice was the
most rotten they had yet encountered--why, they could not tell.
Working with care, they at last turned the floating mass shoreward,
until it bumped lightly. But just as they did this, the ice at their
feet began to give way.
"Jump for it! Don't wait!" yelled Barwell Dawson, and Andy jumped, and
so did Olalola. The latter tried to drive the dogs, but ere he could do
so the peg came up, allowing the rope to free itself, and off floated
the big cake again, carrying the dogs, sledge, and supplies with it.
Andy and Olalola got into water up to their knees, but managed to throw
themselves headlong on the firm ice and roll over and over to safety.
"I'm glad to see you safe," said Mr. Dawson, "but it's too bad about
those dogs and the supplies."
"Can't we get them in?" asked Professor Jeffers.
"We can try it."
They did try it. But just below where they stood the lead widened out,
and another lead cut crosswise, so their further progress was barred.
They stood on the edge of the ice watching the dogs and sledge disappear
around a hill to the north of the lead. The dogs howled dismally, as if
knowing they were doomed.
The loss of so many dogs and so much of their outfit sobered the entire
party, and Estankawak berated Olalola soundly for allowing the team to
get away from him. Estankawak had been faint-hearted for several days,
and now he came to Barwell Dawson and advised that all turn back.
"We cannot reach the Big Nail," said he. "We have not enough food and
not enough dogs." By the "Big Nail" he meant the North Pole.
"We have certainly suffered a severe loss, but I think we can reach the
Pole anyway," answered Mr. Dawson.
"Estankawak wants to go back."
"Very well, you can go back if you want to,--but you'll have to go
alone."
This, of course, did not suit the Esquimau at all. He said he wanted the
other Esquimaux to go with him, and walked away, grumbling to himself.
"He'll have to be watched," said Chet to Andy, when he heard of this
talk.
"Right you are," answered his chum. Andy had not suffered from his
adventure, but it must be confessed that he had been badly scared.
On the following morning, while they were still trying to get over the
lead, a strong wind came up from the northeast. This began to move the
ice on the north shore, and in less than six hours the lead was
completely choked up with it. When they looked at this transformation,
the boys could scarcely believe their eyesight.
"Now is our chance!" cried Barwell Dawson. "Olalola says it is perfectly
safe to cross the ice, although it will be a terribly rough journey."
They went forward, Estankawak most unwillingly, and inside of two hours
left the lead behind them. They now struck ice that was comparatively
smooth, so progress became more rapid. By the next day they were within
just a hundred miles of their goal.
"We'll get there!" cried Andy, but in less than ten hours his tune
changed, for it commenced to snow furiously, while the wind became a
perfect gale. All hands were glad enough to crawl into some
hastily-constructed _igloos_, and even the dogs sought whatever shelter
they could find.
They were thus stormbound for several days. To make any move whatever
would have been folly, and Barwell Dawson attempted none. Yet he chafed
roundly at the delay, the more so as he saw his stock of supplies
rapidly diminishing.
"We must go on shorter rations," said the explorer, and cut down the
quantities that very day. This led to increased dissatisfaction on the
part of Estankawak, and he conversed earnestly with another of his
tribe, Muckaloo by name, but not in the hearing of Olalola.
"He is up to no good, and we must watch him," whispered Andy to Chet.
"Maybe he will try to bolt, and take some of our things with him."
This was just what Estankawak had in mind to do, and he readily got
Muckaloo to join in the scheme. Early in the morning of the next day,
when the weather showed signs of clearing, the two Esquimaux crawled out
of their hut and sneaked over to one of the sledges and harnessed up the
team of six dogs. On the sledge they placed such of the stores as were
handy.
The boys were watching them, and Andy immediately notified Barwell
Dawson.
"Going to mutiny, eh?" cried the explorer, and snatching up a shotgun he
ran outside without waiting to don his fur coat. He saw Estankawak and
Muckaloo at the sledge, just ready to drive off.
"Stop, you rascals!" he roared, in the native tongue. "Go a step, and
I'll shoot you down!"
The Esquimaux were startled, for they had not dreamed that any one
outside of themselves was stirring in the camp. They looked at Barwell
Dawson, and at the leveled shotgun, and Estankawak dropped the whip he
had raised, while Muckaloo hung his head.
"You are going to stay with us," went on the explorer. "If you want to
leave, you must go without any of our things."
"It is death to try to reach the Big Nail," growled Estankawak.
"It will be death if you try to run off with any of my things," replied
Barwell Dawson, grimly. "Go back to your _igloo_, and stay there until I
call you." And at the point of the shotgun he made the mutinous natives
retire to one of the ice huts.