For some moments Will, Tom and Willis stood gazing blankly down at the
broken pieces of the sled and at the bleak and cheerless scene about
them.
Not until that moment did they realize fully the loneliness and peril
of their position.
There was no indication of the presence of any human beings except
themselves in the vicinity.
The Arctic had either been crushed in the ice or had drifted away.
Those of the crew who had been chasing the bear had sailed with the
ship or been lost in the breaking of the ice.
Jack and Hugo, there seemed to be no doubt, had perished in striving to
regain the ship or fly before the advancing sea of ice and snow.
They were alone, separated from all of their kind, cast away in the
cold.
To make their situation more gloomy, night began to come down, dark and
terrible.
The cold they had not noticed so much in their previous excitement,
but, after standing still a few moments, they found themselves chilled
to the bone.
Will Bertram for once had no cheering words for his companions. He
fully comprehended that their dilemma was an extremely perilous one.
Still, he endeavored to regard their situation as philosophically as
possible.
“We have all been in danger before,” he said to his companions. “Do not
let us shrink now.”
“But we have no arms, no food,” said Willis.
“Our greatest enemy is the cold. Against that we may in a measure
provide. However, perhaps the morning may see an entire change in our
position.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Tom.
“The ship may return. We may find Jack and Hugo. We can only hope.
Come, boys, do not stand still, but gather the broken pieces of the
sled together.”
“What for?” inquired Tom.
“To make a fire.”
Willis started towards the accomplishment of the task, but Tom, with a
despairing sigh, sank to a large boulder of ice.
“Get up Tom,” urged Will.
“But I’m so tired.”
“We must work if we hope to get through the night.”
“And I’m cold and sleepy.”
“Tom! Tom!” cried Will, aroused to positive terror at his words; “you
must get up and stir about. That’s just the way people freeze to death
in this temperature. Once asleep, you are lost.”
Tom reluctantly arose to his feet and moved about a little. His feet
were unsteady, however, and he seemed to be sinking into a sort of
torpor.
Willis Moore brought an armful of the pieces of the broken sled to
a place Will had selected, where a sort of cave was formed by the
grouping of huge blocks of ice.
“Get your knife and whittle off some shavings,” ordered Will.
His companion set to work at the task allotted, but made slow progress,
affirming that he had become so chilly he was benumbed all over.
Will saw with consternation the same drowsy apathy steal over him that
had overtaken Tom.
He himself was beginning to experience a terrible change in the
temperature.
It was dark now, and the closing day heralded the coming of intense
cold for the night.
He piled together the shavings, wet and ice-clogged, and found a match
in his pocket.
The pile took fire slowly, first the shavings and then the large pieces
of wood.
He made Willis and Tom sit down within the shelter of the cave, and
almost directly over the fire.
“It will blaze up in a minute, boys,” he said, “and we shall have some
heat.”
“But it won’t last an hour,” remarked Tom, wearily.
“That is why you must arouse yourselves; get thoroughly warmed through
and rested.”
“And then?”
“We must resolutely fight off sleep through the night.”
“How?”
“By running and walking and keeping the blood in circulation. Boys, I
have read of people situated just as we are who were almost comfortable
living in the cold region for years. Our case is not hopeless. With
daybreak we will build an ice hut. We can surely find something to
eat--fish or animal, and we may be found by Esquimaux.”
Will’s words encouraged his companions considerably.
“But do not droop an eyelid. To sleep means death!” he concluded,
impressively.
Will piled all the pieces of wood on the fire. They burned briskly, but
he was amazed to find how little heat they imparted.
He saw that in a few minutes the dying cinders would fade out, leaving
them even without a light.
He had not noticed his companions huddled together amid the smoke,
except to suppose they, like himself, were trying to gather all the
warmth while the fire lasted.
To his amazement and dread, as he approached them and called their
names there was no response.
He shook them wildly. They sat braced against each other, their heads
bent on their breast, and slumbering profoundly!
Will groaned in spirit as he dragged Willis Moore to his feet.
He succeeded in arousing him, and finally got him to comprehend the
dangers of their position.
Willis groped his way backward and forward along the ice, leaning
against the frozen wall for support.
Tom was more difficult to arouse, but Will almost carried him around to
make him move.
The fatal somnolence, however, would return almost immediately. He
would get Willis started, when, looking around, he would find Tom sunk
to the ice again.
At last he despaired utterly. His exertion had almost exhausted him. He
took off the heavy coats the boys wore and spread them on the ice.
Then he carried Willis and Tom in turn to them and covered them up in
them as tightly as he could.
He even took off his own coat and spread it over his sleeping
companions.
For over half an hour Will kept running to and fro trying to fight off
the intense cold that had attacked them.
It was no ordinary battle, and he at last was forced to own himself
vanquished.
His feet seemed like lead, a strange numbness stole over his frame, and
his senses became confused.
“I shall perish if I stay here!” he murmured, and he had just strength
enough to crawl under the overcoats with his companions.
The warmth of their bodies, he hoped, might prevent their freezing.
He was delighted after a few moments to find that all sensation of cold
had left him.
Little did he think this the first signal of danger--the beginning of
that lassitude preceding the sleep of death.
From beneath the covering he had one last glimpse of the starry heavens.
The northern lights flamed in the sky in rare effulgence and beauty.
A peaceful calm held all the scene in death-like stillness.
Almost overhead glimmered a radiant star he knew so well as the
guide-lamp of the Arctic mariner.
His eyes closed. Slumber held the strange trio, all unconscious of
their perils, cast away on the frozen deep under the Polar star.