"BE sharp, lads," exclaimed Ranworth excitedly, "they're nearly done for."
With a leap he alighted upon the ground, and, running with the drifting snow, made towards the newcomers, Leslie and Guy following at his heels, and O'Donovan bringing up the rear. Running hardly describes their progress, for at every step the crew of theBird of Freedomsank almost to their knees.
The two strangers gave no sign of having seen their rescuers. They floundered heavily through the snow, with their shoulders hunched and their heads sunk on their chests. They were enveloped with furs, while, as they struggled against the falling snow, the front of their clothing was plastered white with the frozen flakes. The pair were trudging side by side, dragging a light sleigh by means of cords slung over their shoulders.
"Ahoy!" shouted Ranworth.
At the sound of his voice, both men raised their heads. Their faces were black and almost hidden by thick beards.
One of the men raised his arm and gave vent to a feeble shout which seemed almost stifled in his throat, and pitched inertly upon the snow. His companion stood stock still for a few seconds, then rubbed his eyes vigorously as if unable to credit his sense of vision.Then, extending both arms, he struggled forward for a few paces and collapsed in a heap.
Ranworth and Guy raised the man to a sitting position, while Leslie and O'Donovan directed their attention to the unfortunate individual who had been the first to collapse.
The former was not unconscious, but almost done up through sheer exhaustion. He was a great, hulking fellow of more than six feet in height, and too heavy for even the united efforts of theBird of Freedom'screw to carry through the snow.
"Lift him on to the sleigh," ordered Ranworth. "You, Guy, steady him so that he won't fall off. We'll drag him back to theBird of Freedom. The other man is unconscious. A few minutes more won't hurt him much."
It was an easy matter to drag the light sleigh with its burden, but the difficulty was to get the heavy man up and through the doorway in the side of theBird of Freedom. He was incapable of assisting himself, and his bulk, rendered additionally great by his thick fur clothing, afforded little grip. The "entry port" of the motor-sleigh was not intended for men of his girth.
"Can't we raise him on this, sir?" asked Leslie, indicating the little sleigh on which the man had been brought alongside theBird of Freedom.
"Right-o," assented Ranworth. "Get on board, Leslie, and open the hatchway. Then lower that rope-ladder from the roof."
This Leslie did, then, descending to the interior of the motor-sleigh, he "stood by," while by dint of strenuous exertion, his three companions raised the impromptu stretcher and its burden until one end rested on the sill of the door. Then Leslie assisted in hauling in the helpless man until the stretcher wasalmost balanced, half in and half out of theBird of Freedom.
"Can you steady him?" asked Ranworth.
Receiving an affirmative reply from Leslie, his companion ascended the rope-ladder and gained the cabin of theBird of Freedomby means of the hatchway in the roof, since the doorway in the side was completely blocked by the massive form of the helpless man. It was then a comparatively easy matter to drag the rest of the stretcher across the sill and deposit its burden upon the floor.
"See to him, O'Donovan," said Ranworth. "Now then, you fellows, we'll get the other man in. Sling that sleigh out, Guy, we'll want it."
It was now snowing heavily, so much so that by the time the rescuers retraced their steps to the place where they had left the second man, his body was almost hidden in the drift.
"I'd rather drag this thing a yard than a mile," thought Leslie, as with Guy he seized the cords attached to the sleigh and literally fought his way through the blinding snow. "I wonder how far those poor chaps have come?"
The second of the two rescued men was short in stature, but of a massive build, and it took almost as much exertion to get him on board theBird of Freedomas it had done to deal with his companion.
"Attend to this poor chap, Guy," said Ranworth. "Leslie, will you start the motors? If we don't get a move on pretty smartly, we'll be snowed in."
"How about this, sir?" asked Leslie, indicating the sleigh which the two men had been dragging.
"Sling it overboard. It won't be wanted now, I fancy. Cut adrift that bundle and see what it contains before you get rid of the sleigh."
Leslie did so. The contents of the package told their own tale, for wrapped up in a piece of fur were two lumps of raw seal's flesh and some broken bits of mouldy biscuits.
"Starvation rations," commented Ranworth. "Now, Leslie, start her up; we've no time to lose."
Under the action of the decapod wheels, since the runners were no longer of any use in the soft snow, theBird of Freedomresumed her slow crawl, five miles an hour being the maximum speed under such adverse conditions.
Meanwhile Guy, following O'Donovan's example, had divested his patient of most of his clothing, and was rubbing his chest and forehead with snow. Both men were nearly worn to skeletons. Their ribs stood out sharply under their skin, which was almost black with grime, soot, and oil.
Presently the tall man, who had never actually lost consciousness, feebly made signs that he wanted food.
O'Donovan had already opened a tin of soup and had put the contents to simmer over a spirit stove. A few spoonfuls revived the man considerably.
"Where did you leave the rest of the Ranworth Expedition?" asked Guy.
The man looked at him wonderingly, then shook his head.
Guy repeated the question, receiving in reply some words which he could not understand.
"It's my opinion, Master Guy," said O'Donovan, "that this chap's something he ought not to be."
"What do you mean?" asked the lad.
"He is a foreigner, an', bedad, ne'er a foreigner belonged to Mr. Ranworth's party. They were British to a man, not excepting the few that belonged to Ould Oireland."
Guy, having seen his patient warmly wrapped up, went to Ranworth, who was at the steering-wheel.
"One of those men is a foreigner, sir," he reported.
"Never!" ejaculated Ranworth, incredulously; then he added: "It's a rotten business if he is. Here, Guy, take the wheel a few minutes. Shout if you want me."
Leaving Guy in charge of the helm, Ranworth approached the rescued man.
"Feeling better?" he asked.
The patient shook his head and replied in a guttural and unintelligible language. It bore no resemblance to English. It certainly was not German, which Ranworth knew fairly well.
"Dansk? Norge? Sverige? Russe?" inquired Ranworth, naming the northern kingdoms of Europe.
"Yes, I am a Russian," replied the man, speaking in excellent French. "My name is Ivan Petrovitch, and I am a captain in the Imperial Guard. My companion there is Dmitri Rapoulin, of the Moscow University. To whom are we indebted for saving our lives?"
"Members of the Ranworth Relief Expedition," was the reply. "You have possibly fallen in with the Polar Exploration party under the direction of my brother, Claude Ranworth?"
The Russian shook his head.
"We knew not that there were others in Nova Cania," he replied. "We were wrecked three weeks ago."
"Wrecked?" echoed Ranworth in unbelief. "Then how comes it that we found you so far inland?"
Petrovitch smiled feebly, for he was still very weak, although steadily regaining his vitality.
"There are other ways of being wrecked than on the seashore, monsieur," he said. "We were cast upon the barren land from an airship, in which we were making ascientific voyage. The blizzard brought us down like a stone.Pouf!In one second all was gone; our provisions, stores, instruments, in short, everything we possessed except what we stood upright in, although later on we recovered several things which had been blown far across the snow.
"We were stranded, and on the verge of starvation, sixty miles from the coast and without means of communicating with any wireless station."
"Without provisions—then how did you exist?" asked Ranworth,
"We found a tin of biscuits which had by a miracle escaped destruction," answered Ivan Petrovitch. "Two days later we fell in with a flock of seals. Then came the great blizzard."
"The same that played havoc with my brother's resources."
"Undoubtedly," agreed the Russian. "It was frightful. Even we Russians, accustomed to the cold, were on the point of death. Finally my friend Dmitri and I resolved to make a dash for the harbour you English call Desolation Inlet, hoping against hope to find a chance whaler anchoring there. For days we have eaten nothing but seals' flesh and pieces of rotten biscuit. Our comrades are in a worse plight, I fear."
"How many of you are there altogether?" asked Ranworth.
"Ten."
The Russian stretched out his hand for more soup. Ranworth was silent. He was thinking deeply. The obligations of the relief party were increased twofold. In the name of humanity he must proceed to the rescue of the luckless crew of the destroyed airship. At the most theBird of Freedomcould accommodate sixteen persons only, including her original complement.
"It will mean two trips," he soliloquised. "The question is: whose necessity is greater—my brother's or this man's comrades? Dash it! Of all the intricate problems, this is the stiffest I have had to face."
Finally Ranworth resolved to defer his decision until theBird of Freedomarrived at Observation Camp. It would obviously be a kind of wild-goose chase to penetrate fifteen or twenty miles farther inland, until the two rescued Russians could give clear and concise directions as to how to reach the spot where they had left their unfortunate comrades.
His thoughts were interrupted by a gradually increasing grinding noise. The snow had been freezing rapidly, and the decapod wheels, instead of noiselessly gripping the powdery ground, were now encountering ice strong enough to support the runners.
Accordingly the weight of the sleigh was transferred from the wheels to the steel runners, the air-propellers were brought into action, and once more theBird of Freedomsettled down to a steady pace of forty miles an hour.
"I'll take her, Guy," said Ranworth, relieving the lad at the steering-wheel. "We ought not to be far off now."
Ten minutes later Leslie received the order to switch off, and the sleigh, gradually losing way, came to a standstill within ten feet of the nearest of a cluster of snow huts.
The rescue party had arrived at Observation Camp.
THE spirit of desolation appeared to hover over the camp. There were no signs of life. The recently fallen snow, now frozen hard, showed no footprints. Two or three boxes, a pile of fur packages, and the remains of three dog sleighs were visible, although partly covered in snow.
On the windward side of the huts, dome-shaped after the Esquimaux fashion, the snow had drifted almost level with the tops. The entrances, just wide enough for a man to crawl through, were curtained with furs.
Guarding against the possibility of theBird of Freedombeing carried away by a gust, by the simple expedient of putting the balanced rudder over, Ranworth alighted, and, followed by Leslie and Guy, made his way to the nearest hut.
On his hands and knees Ranworth crawled through the tunnel-like entrance and thrust aside the curtain. The interior was in utter darkness, for his bulk effectively prevented any light from coming in through the opening.
Fumbling in the pocket of his fur coat, he produced an electric torch. The light revealed the fact that the hut was deserted. There were furs and implements lying in confusion. From the roof hung an oil lamp. Ranworth shook it. The reservoir was empty.
"No good here," he announced with bitter disappointment in his voice; and, without waiting for his companions to enter, he backed into the open air.
The second hut, upon examination, proved to be equally unsatisfactory. It contained only a few seals' skins, frozen as stiff as a board. The skins had been hurriedly taken from the animals, for pieces of frozen flesh still adhered to them. Nor had the seals been killed for the sake of their fur, for the skins were cut into irregular pieces.
It was quite evident that, like the unfortunate Russians, Claude Ranworth's party had had to exist on raw seals' flesh; yet the fact that they had contrived to find these amphibians forty or fifty miles from the sea was somewhat perplexing.
The third hut had a double curtain. The approach tunnel, too, was larger. The inner curtain, unlike those in the other huts, was secured.
As Ranworth fumbled to find the lashings, he heard a feeble voice exclaim:
"There's a bear, Tom; get your rifle, sharp."
"Hold on!" shouted Ranworth.
The curtain was torn aside. A cloud of oil-smelling smoke wafted out, causing Ranworth to cough and his eyes to fill with water. Literally gasping for breath, and unable to see, he waited, hunched upon his hands and knees.
"Hullo, Jack. You've come at last!" exclaimed a drowsy voice.
It was Claude Ranworth's greeting to his brother.
"Yes, old man, we're here," replied John Ranworth, and emerging from the tunnel he drew himself erect within the hut, while Leslie and Guy followed.
The sole illumination was derived from a piece of lighted cotton rag floating in a shallow bowl of oil andtallow. It revealed seven men, lying close together for mutual warmth and muffled in furs. Three of them were fast asleep, the others seemed more or less torpid.
Their gaunt faces, black with smoke from the lamp, betrayed extreme emaciation. Their rugged, unkempt beards made them look like decrepit old men.
One of them babbled incoherently, until Ranworth understood that he was begging for tea.
The scene appalled Leslie and Guy. If this were what Polar research meant, was the game worth the candle?
"Where are the others?" asked Ranworth.
"Done in—scurvy," was the reply. Then, "We're starving," he added huskily.
"Come out, all of you," ordered Ranworth.
It was necessary to speak sharply, for the luckless explorers were too listless to take much interest in anything. Unless they were promptly moved from the vile atmosphere, and given wholesome food, they would never reach Desolation Inlet again, much less the shores of Old England.
One by one the four men who were awake were assisted out and taken on board theBird of Freedom. The remaining three, still in the deep sleep of utter weakness and exhaustion, had to be dragged into the open air and across the intervening stretch of frozen snow.
Fortunately O'Donovan had plenty of water boiling on the two spirit stoves, and meat extract and vegetable soup were soon forthcoming. So quickly did the rescued men wolf the food that they had to be restrained forcibly.
"Leslie," said Ranworth. "I'm in a regular hole. You see, we are only just in time here, yet fifteen or twenty miles from us are eight poor Russians in perhaps a worse plight. Now, if you were in my position, what would you do?"
"Run your brother's party back to Desolation Inlet; put them on board thePolarity, and return for the others, sir."
Ranworth shook his head.
"Won't do," he said. "For one thing, there's valuable time lost in going over the same ground twice. For another, I doubt whether the motors will hold out without recharging the storage batteries. Of course, it is highly desirable to get my brother and his comrades back on board, but I think, with fresh provisions and attendance, they ought to exist another twenty-four hours."
"I'll remain with them if you like, sir," suggested Leslie.
"I'd rather you came with me," declared Ranworth. "Of course, it is optional with you, but although I think I could manage to run the motors, I shouldn't feel equal to the occasion in the event of a breakdown. Guy, I suppose, would want to go with you; that leaves only O'Donovan, who, I feel sure, would be quite capable of looking after our eight patients."
"Eight?" queried Leslie.
"Yes, we must leave the Russian Dmitri. The other one will have to come with us, both as guide and interpreter, in the unlikely event of none of the others speaking French. Most Russian officers do, I know, but I prefer to take no unnecessary chances." O'Donovan, upon the subject being broached, willingly fell in with his chief's plans. While the rescued men were resting and regaining strength after their meal, the sailor busied himself with clearing out one of the huts. Into this he carried the spare spirit stove, a lamp, oil, and a supply of provisions sufficient to last a week.
"Look here, Claude," said his brother. "We'll haveto leave you for a little longer. There is a party of Russians stranded over there somewhere——"
"Russians!" exclaimed Claude Ranworth. "Russians in Nova Cania? What for?"
"Don't be alarmed, old man," said his brother reassuringly. "They are not rivals. It is the force of circumstances. At any rate, one would think that you'd had your fair share of Nova Cania."
Claude gripped his brother's arm.
"Look here," he whispered eagerly. "In that hut where you found us is a lump of metal wrapped up in a sealskin. It doesn't look very big, but it's worth a fortune—it's pure platinum. Over yonder the place swarms with it."
"Hardly worth the risk," declared the matter-of-fact John Ranworth. "But we must see about getting a move on. You won't hurt for another few hours. We ought not to be very long. I'll just ask Petrovitch a few questions. He's quite fit to give lucid information now."
"North-north-east, I believe, monsieur," said the Russian, in reply to Ranworth's question as to the approximate position of his stranded comrades. "I think I could follow our course from the place where you found us, but from this place—no."
"I don't like retracing our course," declared Ranworth, "but I suppose we must do it, to avoid a wild-goose chase. Of course, you know that your tracks must be wiped out by the blizzard?"
"There are peculiar hummocks which I can recognise," said the Russian.
Suddenly an inspiration flashed across Ranworth's mind.
"I say, Claude," he exclaimed. "Did you happen to notice a cloud of black smoke away to the nor'-nor'-east about three weeks ago?"
"Yes," replied his brother. "But you weren't anywhere in the vicinity of Nova Cania at that time?"
"No," replied John Ranworth. "But what was it like? In what direction did it appear?"
"I can remember it well," continued Claude Ranworth. "It was about three o'clock in the morning. The sun was obscured, and overhead was a bank of heavy clouds. I saw a vivid flash reflected on the underside of the clouds, followed by a dull report. The interval between the flash and the report was seventy seconds according to my calculation, for I had no watch available."
"You were always pretty good at counting seconds," remarked Ranworth. "Then what happened?"
"A heavy cloud of smoke drifted in this direction. It hung about for nearly two hours before it finally dispersed."
"Can you indicate the actual direction of the flash?"
"Yes," replied Claude. "Do you see that hummock with a peculiar double crown? If you stand in front of the second hut from here, the crest of the hummock is practically in line with the place from which the flash emanated. But why are you so interested, Jack?"
"Because," said John Ranworth, "I have every reason to believe that the flash you saw was the explosion of the airship in which these Russians had been travelling."
Claude Ranworth made a gesture of annoyance.
"I thought I had observed an unusual seismic disturbance," he cried. "In fact, I immediately entered a detailed description of a supposed volcanic eruption in my log, meaning to send a report to the Royal Society. By the bye, that reminds me; if anything should happen to me during your absence, my scientific documents—I'm afraid I haven't kept them up-to-date—are under my sleeping bag. But I'm awfully sorry it wasn't an earthquake."
"So am I," agreed Ranworth. "It might have saved me a long journey."
He snatched up a piece of paper lying on the cabin table and worked out a short sum. Seventy seconds was the time given by Claude as having elapsed between the flash and the detonation. Allowing sound to travel at 365 yards a second, the distance worked out at just over fourteen miles.
His next step was to take a prismatic compass and set it in position outside the hut his brother had indicated. By taking a bearing of the twin-peaked hummock, he was able to fix the direction of the scene of the disaster to the Russian airship.
O'Donovan having reported that his preparations were complete, the seven surviving members of Claude Ranworth's party, and the Russian Dmitri, were taken off the sleigh and placed in the snow hut.
Without further delay, theBird of Freedomset off on her fourteen-mile journey to the rescue of the stranded aviators.
It was as well that Ranworth had thought to question his brother on the subject of the explosion. By so doing he saved himself the trouble and loss of valuable time in retracing his course until Petrovitch could pick up his trail. He also knew that the Russian had greatly overrated the distance.
Instead of being sixty miles from Desolation Inlet, the wrecked airship was about fifty miles from that harbour and fourteen from Observation Camp.
Before the sleigh had put half a mile between itself and the camp, the arm of a wide creek was passed on the left hand. The water was frozen over, except here and there where the ice had broken under its ownpressure, and had piled itself up into irregular hummocks. Around these holes thousands of seals were congregated. The mystery of how Claude Ranworth's party obtained their seals was now solved.
"What a pity we didn't know of this before, sir," remarked Leslie. "ThePolaritycould have approached much nearer the camp."
"The ice is too thick for that," replied Ranworth. "For another reason, the creek apparently opens into the sea on the northern coast of Nova Cania. You must recollect that the southern and the greater portion of the eastern and western sides of this vast island have been explored with fair accuracy."
Three times during the next ten miles the decapod wheels had to be brought into action owing to the rough nature of the ground.
Suddenly Ranworth gave the steering-wheel a vicious turn, which had the effect of making theBird of Freedomdescribe a sharp semi-circle.
"Stop her!" he ordered.
Leslie obeyed instantly. Although anxious to know the reason of his chief's apparent eccentricity, he refrained from asking questions.
"Get out a coil of two-inch rope, Guy," said Ranworth. "Unless I am much mistaken, there is rotten ice ahead. It wants testing badly."
Guy produced the rope. Making a bowline at one end, Ranworth slipped the loop over his head and shoulders.
"Now," he continued, "I want all hands to pay this out. Keep a slight strain upon it, and, if I shout, haul away instantly."
Having repeated the instructions in French to Petrovitch, Ranworth began to walk towards the supposedly dangerous ground, its position denoted by a differencein colour and a decided dip. North-west and south-east, as far as the eye could see, these characteristics were apparent. To avoid the suspected danger, a long detour would be necessary.
Ranworth proceeded slowly, probing the ground with a crowbar. Once or twice he stopped and prodded vigorously, until, satisfied that the ice was capable of bearing a tremendous weight, he resumed his way.
"The rope's all paid out, sir," reported Guy.
"Very good, you can come this way for another fifty yards. It's sound enough," was the reply.
Just then Ranworth gave a warning shout, but before the three helpers could haul in the slack they saw to their horror the ice giving way all around their isolated comrade.
Throwing up his arms in a vain attempt to recover his balance, Ranworth disappeared in the newly-formed abyss.
The sudden jerk well-nigh capsized the rest of the party, for the smooth ice afforded but little foothold. The strain, too, caused the rope to "render" through their thickly-gloved hands, and had not the Russian taken the precaution of knotting his end round his waist, the coil with Ranworth at the end would have been lost for ever. As it was, the luckless man was dangling fifty feet over the brink of an unfathomable abyss.
The two lads and their Russian comrade began to haul away. Foot after foot of rope came home, till Ranworth's voice was heard feebly shouting to hold on.
The order was instantly obeyed. It was good to hear his voice, for it seemed marvellous that, after falling fifty feet and being brought up with a jerk, Ranworth's back had not been broken by the sudden strain on the rope.
As a matter of fact, his fall was less abrupt than it seemed, judging by the way in which the ice suddenly gave way all around him.
It was a terrific strain, nevertheless, but, owing to the thickness of Ranworth's fur coat, the bight of the rope, instead of cutting deeply into his body, merely jammed against his ribs. It was sufficient to deprive him of speech temporarily, and it was not until he was hauled up to within five feet of the brink of the crevasse that he found speech to warn his rescuers of the new peril that beset him.
"The rope is stranding," he shouted. "Belay if you can, and throw another rope to me. I may be able to grasp it; if not——"
The unfinished sentence told its own tale.
"We can take the strain, Guy," said Leslie hurriedly. "Cut off and bring another length of rope—thicker stuff if you can find it; and a crowbar," he added as an afterthought.
Guy was off as fast as the slippery nature of the ice would permit. Soon he was back with the required articles.
Deftly the lad hurled the length of rope. It fell short. Another and yet another cast did he make, but without success. The rope was too heavy and stiff to be thrown sufficiently far.
Again Ranworth's voice was heard.
"Be quick," he exclaimed. "The edge of the ice is chafing the rope badly. It won't hold much longer."
"Leslie," said Guy earnestly, "I'm going to take this rope to the edge and drop it over. There's enough slack in your rope to carry back to the sleigh. Be sharp!"
Leslie obeyed without protest. Signing to the Russian, the three walked backwards, slowly letting thedamaged rope slip through their hands as they did so. There was just sufficient to allow a turn to be taken round one of the brackets supporting the nearmost runner of theBird of Freedom.
As soon as this was done, Leslie and Petrovitch were able to assist Guy. Two bowlines on the bight were made in the new rope; one at the end, the other ten feet from it. Slipping through the latter, Guy began to walk towards the abyss, his comrades paying out as he went.
At about twenty feet from the crevasse Guy threw himself flat upon the ice. It creaked, but held. Cautiously he wriggled onwards, pushing the unused bight of the rope before him.
Right to the edge he made his way. Still the ice held. He could see Ranworth dangling inertly at the end of the first rope. More, he saw how badly the rope had chafed on the edge of the sharp ice. It seemed marvellous how the remaining strand could support a man of Ranworth's weight.
Fortunately the rope was no longer chafing. It had sunk into the ice and thus had formed a fairly smooth bed for itself, but any attempt to increase the strain would have been fatal.
Skilfully angling with the disengaged bight of the rope, Guy succeeded in getting it within reach of Ranworth's legs. Then slowly hauling up, he had the satisfaction of seeing the rope encircle the unfortunate man's chest.
"Haul away!" shouted Guy.
Leslie and the Russian did so, till Guy felt the strain transferred from the stranded rope to the one with which he, too, was secured.
"Stand by!" shouted Guy, then boldly slipping out of his bowline he commenced to crawl towards his companions, keeping within arm's length of the rope in case of the ice giving way again.
image: 07_dangling
image: 07_dangling
[Illustration: He could see Ranworth dangling inertly at the end of the first rope.To face page 136.]
[Illustration: He could see Ranworth dangling inertly at the end of the first rope.To face page 136.]
"All together!" was the cry, when the intrepid lad added his strength to that of Leslie and Petrovitch on the rope.
Slowly Ranworth's head and shoulders appeared above the brink of the crevasse, then helpless as a log, the leader of the expedition was unceremoniously dragged over the edge and across the ice to safety.
Nearly frozen, and sorely bruised, Ranworth was assisted back to the sleigh. For the time being he was incapable of taking charge. Upon Guy as helmsman and Leslie as engineer depended the navigation of theBird of Freedom, and between them and the object of their unexpected expedition lay the dreaded and seemingly impassable crevasse.
"Look here!" exclaimed Leslie. "Petrovitch must either have crossed or missed this crevasse somewhere. We're converging upon the route which he took previous to our finding him. Why not ask him if he recognises any of the landmarks?"
In very halting, schoolboy French the lads questioned the stalwart Russian. Petrovitch replied that, so far as he was aware, he crossed no crevasse, but if the sleigh kept parallel with the dangerous stretch of ice for a few miles, he might be able to identify his former route.
"Let her rip, old man!" exclaimed Guy, as he took up his position at the steering wheel.
Almost at right angles to her previous course, theBird of Freedomglided rapidly over the smooth, firm ice, Guy keeping a sharp look-out, especially towards the sinister, concealed crevasse on his left.
Suddenly Petrovitch grasped the lad by the shoulder.
"Here is our route!" he exclaimed. "I recognise that rock shaped like a dog's head."
"Then you must have crossed the crevasse without knowing it," declared Guy. "See, it still continues in this direction."
The Russian shrugged his shoulders.
"Perhaps," he said. "But in any case it bore my weight, so what did it matter, then?"
"I'm afraid it matters now," rejoined Guy. "It's pretty evident that it won't bear the weight of the sleigh and its crew. What do you propose?"
"We are not two versts from my companions' temporary habitation," said Petrovitch. "You have a rifle, I see. Why not fire a few shots to let them know we are close?"
"That won't help us much," objected Leslie, who, having stopped the motors, had joined in the council.
"If I could walk across, they can do the same," declared the Russian. "Therefore, let us fire signal guns."
Half a dozen rounds were fired at regular intervals, but no answering signal came from the direction of the wrecked airship. Petrovitch, nothing daunted at the failure of his plan, smiled broadly.
"Since they will not pay attention, I must needs go and bring them here," he declared. And, without further delay, he commenced to place tins of concentrated food and biscuits into a small haversack.
"Unless harm befall me, I return in three hours," he said.
"Guy, old man!" exclaimed his chum, "I can't let that fellow toddle off by himself. I'm going with him. It's not so very far, and the weather looks promising. The glass is steady, and the sun's looking clearer than for days past; so here goes. You stand by and look after Mr. Ranworth."
"All right," assented Guy. "Only, mind and take care of yourself. I wish to goodness I was going with you."
Upon Leslie broaching his decision to Petrovitch, the Russian objected. He felt quite capable of going alone, he declared; but Leslie was equally firm in his resolve.
Finally Petrovitch gave way, merely stipulating that they must be roped when crossing the crevasse, and that Leslie should lead.
"My young friend," he explained, "if the ice should give way, you would fall. I, being great in size, could easily hold you, but if I went first and dropped into the crevasse you would not be able to save me; and, more, I would drag you after me. Is not that clear?"
Leslie nodded.
"Very good," he assented. "I'll go first."
No doubt the ice bridge over the abyss had been hidden in snow when the two Russians passed over it on their dash for Desolation Inlet. The strong wind, following the blizzard before the snow had time to congeal, had uncovered the rotten ice and now revealed the danger.
Leslie advanced cautiously and with considerable fear. Even the fact that he was secured by a rope hardly minimised the sense of dread that the "ground" might give way under him with hardly any warning. He was seized by a momentary desire to retrace his steps, but realising that the Russian was following, and that he, an Englishman, had to "keep his end up," the lad progressed steadily.
The scope of the rope was insufficient to bridge the entire crevasse. Long before Leslie gained the firm ice on the farther side, Petrovitch was crossing the treacherous belt.
Leslie recalled the Russian's words. "If I dropped into the crevasse, you would not be able to save me; and, more, I would drag you after me."
Just then Leslie felt the rope give. Turning his head, he saw that Petrovitch had cast off the life-line, and was lying full length upon the thin crust of ice.
"Hasten!" shouted the Russian. "The ice—it iscracking. If I go, tell my comrades I tried to do my duty."
Leslie stood stock still. He had but another twenty yards to go to get clear of the dangerous ice-bridge, but the self-sacrificing spirit of his companion banished his own fears.
"Take hold of the rope again!" he exclaimed. "Lie down if you will. I will pull you across."
"Agreed," replied Petrovitch, but without attempting to pass the bowline over his shoulders, he contented himself by merely holding on with his hands.
The lad moved forward. With little difficulty the Russian's huge bulk slid over the ice. Again there was an ominous creak. The strain on the rope was suddenly released, and, taken aback, Leslie slipped and fell flat on his face.
Quickly he regained his feet, fully expecting to find that his companion had vanished into that awful abyss. Petrovitch, too, had expected the catastrophe, and rather than put the English lad in any danger, he had released his hold on the rope without warning.
Leslie was safe now, but the rope had recoiled with the sudden relaxation of the strain, and the end was ten feet from the Russian.
With the ice creaking and groaning as he moved, Petrovitch crawled slowly towards the rope. Leslie could see the surface bending under his weight as he advanced inch by inch. The suspense was nerve-racking.
At length Petrovitch retrieved the rope. Leslie immediately walked away, hauling steadily the while, until the Russian was safely dragged to the firm ground on the other side of the chasm.
Spontaneously the English lad and the Russian giant held out their hands. Not a word was spoken, butthe firm grip was a sufficient testimony to their appreciation of each other's devotion.
The crevasse had been successfully crossed, but the disquieting fact remained that it now lay between them and theBird of Freedom. If two persons had succeeded in crossing only by the skin of their teeth, how could twelve hope to negotiate that terrible ice-bridge?
On and on the pair trudged in silence, save for an occasional exchange of sentences in French. Presently the Russian unconsciously increased his pace. The wreck of the airship was in sight.
Its gaunt aluminium girders, twisted and bent almost out of recognition, completely dwarfed the large ice hut built a few feet from the wreckage. Above the hut floated the blue St. Andrew's cross on a white ground—the Russian ensign.
Holding his gloved hands to his mouth in order to form a speaking trumpet, Petrovitch hailed.
Almost as soon as the sound reached the hut, men were observed to be pouring out like bees from a hive, and, in spite of the intervening distance, the rarefied atmosphere enabled them to maintain a lively conversation with their rejoicing comrade, while three or four of the stranded Russians hastened to meet their compatriot.
As they approached, Leslie could see that they were all tall, finely-built men, and apparently the picture of health. He could not help contrasting their appearance with that of the exhausted survivors of Claude Ranworth's party and with that of Petrovitch and his companion, Dmitri, when rescued by theBird of Freedom, According to Petrovitch's account, he had left his comrades on the very verge of starvation.
Petrovitch lost no time in introducing Leslie to the newcomers, and, escorted by the latter, the lad wastaken to the hut. Here the mystery of the fit appearance of the castaways was revealed, for roasting over an oil-stove which had been fashioned from material saved from the airship was a huge joint of bear's flesh.
Very soon after the departure of Petrovitch and Dmitri, a polar bear had visited the camp. The Russians had thrown themselves upon it with their knives, and, after a brief struggle, the animal became the spoil of the victors.
After a good but hasty meal, preparations were made to abandon the wrecked airship and make for theBird of Freedom.
An aluminium sleigh, also knocked together from the frame of the airship, was piled high with the men's personal belongings and a few scientific instruments and records, while at Petrovitch's suggestion two long lengths of rope were also taken.
There followed an animated discussion evidently with reference to the load on the sleigh. Petrovitch and two more seemed to be opposing the taking of so much luggage, but the rest insisted vehemently. Finally, the objectors lost the day.
With a meaning shrug of his broad shoulders, Petrovitch turned to Leslie.
"Wait till they arrive at the crevasse," he said in a low tone.
It was downhill most of the way, and since there was no wind to impede them, the progress of the rescued party was well maintained. With relays of five men to pull the sleigh, that vehicle offered no drawback to their speed.
Suddenly, when they were within a quarter of a mile of the ice bridge, a rending crash was heard, and amid a shower of splintered ice a huge cavity appearedwhere a second previously an uninterrupted field of frozen snow hid the terrible chasm from view.
The newly-made hole was less than a hundred yards from the track by which Leslie and Petrovitch had passed. Undoubtedly the falling in of this part of the ice-bridge would seriously weaken the already none too secure route which had to be traversed before theBird of Freedomwas reached.
Leslie took no part in the operations that followed. He realised that the Russians knew what they were about, and that it would be unwise on his part to offer any suggestions.
Unloading the coils of rope from the sleigh, the men bent them to the rope which had already played such a good part in the previous crossing of the crevasse. The three lengths combined were sufficient to allow a double rope to stretch from one side to the other.
Securing the rope to the strongest part of the sleigh, Petrovitch prepared to cross. The 18-feet runners enabled his weight to be evenly distributed over a far greater extent than if he had adopted his previous expedient of crawling across the ice-bridge.
Having thrown overboard everything on the sleigh, the Russian wrenched off the centre strip of boarding on the floor. Then, sitting, he started to propel the sleigh across the ice, while his comrades paid out the rope as he went.
Although the surface sagged ominously, the hardy and courageous Russian completed his journey without mishap; then, assisted by Guy, who was anxiously awaiting the arrival of the party, he took his stand on the firm ground beyond, and passed the endless rope through his hands while his comrades hauled back the sleigh.
Leslie, by the unanimous decision of the Russians,was the next to cross. Lashed to the sleigh in case the ice-bridge should collapse, he was pulled across by Petrovitch, and on landing he, too, assisted in sending the empty sleigh back to the remainder of the party.
In this manner the crew of the wrecked airship crossed the crevasse until only one man was left. He was the one who took the lead in insisting on the baggage being taken with them. Reluctant to abandon the gear, he proceeded to reload the sleigh, in spite of the protests of his comrades.
With ten men trailing on the rope, his progress was an easy one until two-thirds of the way across. Then, without a creak to warn him, the ice suddenly gave way. His horrified comrades saw the luckless man make a frantic grasp at the framework of the sleigh. In his haste he gripped some of the baggage he had so foolishly insisted upon bringing across, and as the sleigh toppled and disappeared from view he was thrown clear of his only hope of safety.
Two minutes later the empty sleigh was hauled out of the ice-hole. The ill-starred passenger and all his baggage were lost for ever in the depths of the crevasse.