BARNEY’S DISAPPEARANCE—FIGHT WITH BEARS.
As far as the eye could reach all was one vast snow bank. The wind
rioting had twisted the loose material into all sorts of fantastic
shapes.
The snow had now ceased falling and the air was crisp and clear.
Leaving the airship’s deck the voyagers walked boldly out upon the huge
drifts.
The snowshoes prevented their sinking into the white depths, perhaps
over their heads.
Frank Reade, Jr., led the way to the highest point accessible and from
this a good view of the surroundings could be had.
It was a bleak, desolate and forbidding region spread to view.
Yet the white country had its peculiar beauty and charms. Like crystal
palaces the bergs of clearest ice glistened in the rarefied air.
“Grand!” cried Professor Gaston. “Where will you ever see the likes
again?”
“Begorra, I wish I had a toboggan!” cried Barney, pointing to an icy
slope near.
“Yo’ don’ need nuffin’ ob dat kind, sah!” cried Pomp. “Jes’ slide down
on yo’ feet an’ stiddy yo’se’f wif a pike.”
All the party had long pike poles with iron tips to prevent sliding into
any hole or dangerous pit.
Barney was just in a mood to refute any dare that Pomp might offer, so
he cried:
“Bejabers, I’ll go ye!”
“A’right, I’ish!”
Away went the two jokers at full speed across the snow. They reached the
slope a few moments later.
The slide was fully a hundred yards in length, and was quite steep and
slippery. Frank looked anxious.
“I fear they are rash,” he said. “If one of them should fall he might
break some bones.”
But Professor Gaston laughed.
“Have no fear,” he said. “They will make it all safely. It is fun for
them.”
The two jokers were now on the brow of the descent. They were chaffing
each other in a friendly manner.
“Am yo’ ready, I’ish?” cried Pomp.
“Begorra, I am!”
“Then jes’ follow me!”
With their pikes thrust deep into the ice behind, and acting both as
rudder and support, they began the slide.
The surface seemed as smooth as polished glass. Down they shot at
lightning speed.
It required but a few brief seconds to cover the distance.
But before it was covered a thrilling incident occurred. Suddenly, and
when half way down, there was a crackling sound, and Barney threw up his
arms and disappeared.
Pomp went on down to the end of the slide.
A cry of horror burst simultaneously from the lips of Frank Reade, Jr.,
and Professor Gaston.
“My soul!” cried the young inventor. “My fears are realized! Barney is
lost!”
They lost no time, but started at once for the spot.
Reaching the foot of the slide, Frank saw the explanation of Barney’s
disappearance.
There, in the surface of the slide, was a yawning hole. The ice in this
spot was thin and had covered a pit, into which the unlucky Celt had
fallen.
With the aid of his pike, Frank crawled to the edge of the hole and
looked in.
What he beheld gave him an awful, horrified chill.
“My God!” he cried, wildly, “Barney has gone to his death!”
“Don’t say that!” cried Gaston. “Can we not pull him out of that awful
hole?”
“No,” replied Frank, sadly. “Barney is beyond earthly aid!”
By this time Pomp and Gaston were by Frank’s side. A glance into the
hole was enough.
It was a deep, circular opening, extending downward for twenty feet. At
its bottom was a surging, boiling mass of icy waters.
It was into the ocean that Barney had dropped.
Doubtless before this he had been carried under the vast field of ice
and was beyond earthly aid.
For a moment the three explorers looked at each other in utter horror.
Then Pomp began to wail in sorrow.
“Fo’ de good Lor’, am de I’ishman done gone an’ dronwed?” he cried. “Den
dis chile am lef’ all alone. Boo, hoo, hoo! He was jes’ de bes’ frien’ I
eber had. Wha’ am I gwine to do now?”
Indeed, all were deeply affected. Pomp was inconsolable.
Watch was kept at the hole for a reasonable time in the faint hope that
the Celt would reappear.
But he did not.
Sorrowfully the three explorers now returned to the airship. But before
they reached it they were confronted with new and startling incidents.
The Dart was half buried in the snow at the foot of the big berg. As
Frank and his companions came in sight of the Dart they paused.
Clambering over the deck were a number of fur-clad forms.
At first the explorers thought them human beings, but a closer glance
showed that they were huge white bears.
Six of the monsters were boarding the airship in the coolest possible
manner.
“Great heavens!” exclaimed Professor Gaston. “What does that mean,
Frank?”
“It looks as if the bears had taken possession of our property,”
declared the young inventor.
“Can they do any harm?”
“Certainly. We must tackle them at once.”
The prospect of tackling the six monsters was by no means a pleasant
one.
The white bear is known as a powerful and savage beast and not easily
handled.
But there was no alternative for the adventurers.
They must certainly regain the airship. It was not easy to say how long
the bears would remain on board or what damage they might do.
“Forward!” cried Frank. “Reserve your fire until at close quarters.”
This command was obeyed.
When near the rail fire was opened with the Winchesters. One of the
bears tumbled in a heap with three bullets in his carcass.
Frank’s plan was to tackle one bear at a time and fire at him until he
succumbed. This would have been all very well had the bears remained
inactive.
But this they did not seem disposed to do. At sight of the white men
they came to the attack at once.
The white bear is a huge, unwieldy monster, but nevertheless supple and
quick in action.
The five remaining bears started for the explorers pell mell. They were
evidently hungry and regarded them as lawful prey.
“Look out!” shouted Frank. “Separate and fire as rapidly as you can.”
These instructions were followed.
Pomp retreated as fast as his legs could carry him with two of the bears
after him. On even ground the darky might have distanced them.
But on the snowshoes he found it hot work to keep out of reach of their
paws. Once overtaken, his fate would be sealed.
Knowing this, he sped on with all speed. There was no chance to turn and
fire until he had gained at least a reasonable distance.
The darky was all pluck, however, and kept on at a rapid pace. Finally
he managed to gain a pinnacle of ice which projected upward from the
plain.
This he believed was his opportunity.
Quick as a flash he dodged behind it. Then he drew aim at almost
point-blank range and fired at the first bear.
The bullet took effect in the brute’s brain, through the eye. It
staggered back and then dropped in a heap.
A yell of pleasure escaped the darky’s lips. He was about to draw back
the hammer and throw a second cartridge into the rifle barrel when he
saw, with horror, that there was not another cartridge in the chamber of
the repeater.
He had just time to dodge the surviving bear around the ice pinnacle.
Round and round he went, the bear at his heels. The predicament was a
comical as well as a serious one.
“Golly! wha’ am I gwine to do?” reflected the darky. “I kain’t keep dis
sort of fing up fo’ebber.”
The bear was enraged at his futile effort to capture his prey. Pomp
eluded him every time.
Then a daring idea occurred to the darky. He broke away and made a dash
for the airship.
If he could reach it and gain an entrance to the cabin he would be
saved. Unarmed as he was it was certain death to face the bear.
Swift as he could, Pomp ran toward the Dart. The bear was howling close
at his heels.
Indeed, when the Dart’s rail was reached the monster was hardly three
yards behind. A dozen yards more and Pomp would certainly have been
captured.
Over the rail at a leap went the darky. The next moment he reached the
cabin door.
He threw his weight against it and it gave way. Into the cabin he
sprang. The bear paused at the door.
While the brute seemed to be meditating upon the feasibility of
entering, Pomp procured an elephant rifle.
This threw a deadly explosive shell of Frank Reade, Jr.’s own invention.
Pomp took steady aim at the brute.
Then he fired.
The shell struck the bear in the chest. It was instantly fatal,
penetrating the heart. Pomp had won.
Then the victorious darky thought of his companions.
“Golly! I done fink Marse Frank am habin’ a hard time!” he cried.
This was indeed true.
Professor Gaston was dodging his bear behind an ice column as Pomp had
been. But Frank was in hand-to-hand conflict with the remaining two
bears.
The young inventor had fired three bullets into the body of one of the
bears. But though somewhat crippled, the beast was yet in fighting trim.
And both had come to close quarters with Frank.
He had drawn his long hunting-knife and was slashing at the brutes, but
it was a moral certainty that he would have been soon overpowered had it
not been for the opportune coming of Pomp.
The darky rushed up at this moment and cried:
“Jes’ yo’ hol’ on, Marse Frank. I’se here, an’ I’se gwine to sabe yo’.”
Placing his elephant rifle close against the body of one of the bears
Pomp pulled the trigger. The effect was fatal.
The brute’s vitals were literally destroyed, and it sank dying upon the
snow. The other bear Frank quickly finished with his knife.
Then the two victorious hunters went to the rescue of Professor Gaston.
This sole remaining bear was easily dispatched and the battle was over.
Beyond a few scratches and cuts the party was uninjured. But all
realized what good reason there was for self-congratulation.
“By Jove!” cried Frank. “Six bears to three men! That is the biggest
luck for one day’s hunting that I have ever seen.”
“If we had been hunting for such game we could never have found it in
such numbers,” declared Professor Gaston.
“I don’t know about dat!” said Pomp, dubiously. “Dar am a heap ob dem
critters in dese regions!”
“Well,” cried Frank, cheerily, “let us remove their pelts and keep them
as trophies of our prowess, anyhow.”