To the Lady Memene, greeting:Though the syllana be a flower little in accord with thy thought, yet when the hour shall strike that thou hast need for a friend who will do and dare all things, wear one on thy gown.
To the Lady Memene, greeting:
Though the syllana be a flower little in accord with thy thought, yet when the hour shall strike that thou hast need for a friend who will do and dare all things, wear one on thy gown.
Folding his message, unsigned, the king called the lad.
"Alternes, take thou this parchment to the hall of the Lord Karnaon," he directed. "Give it into the hand of the Lady Memene, and to no other. On thy way thither send to me Zalos and three of his men. Then seek thou thy rest."
Minos seated himself on the topmost step of the palace portico and leaned his head against a pillar. His eyes roved across the shadowy valley, where the flickering light of the mountain moons mingled with the cold, pale radiance of the Antarctic stars. He scarcely saw it. He had fallen into a reverie.
Ill had gone the love-making of this king. Never, since the days when they had played together as children, had the Lady Memene given him one word of love, one single glance in which a lover might read joy. Ah, those far, fair days of childhood! Then he had been but the younger brother of the man who would be king. She had been kind then.
Imperious, proud-spirited, disdainful was this Lady Memene in her dark loveliness. Minos could only dream that she would soften to him, and to him alone. Days of terror were falling on the valley. Perhaps worse were to come. He would like to stand at her side and hold her safe. Well, he had sent her his first love letter. He would watch for the syllana, the peerless blue rose of Sardanes that bloomed in the months of the long night, and, though Sardanians knew it not, bloomed nowhere else in the world besides. It was the Sardanian symbol of love. Ah, that she would wear it, if only to call him to her service!
Presently came Zalos, a tall man of nearly forty years, captain of the huntsmen, who were, even more than the nobles of the valley, close in the affections and confidence of the king.
"Thou hast summoned us, O king," said the hunter, raising his arm in salute and indicating three of his men who stood back in the shadows.
"Aye, Zalos, old friend, I would lay a trust upon thee," replied Minos. "Set a guard about the hall of the Lord Karnaon. Let no hour pass that thou or three of thy men are not on watch. If aught untoward befall there, let the feet be fleet that bring the news to Minos. And if help be needed there—I believe thou understandest—give it—even with thy spears, and at the cost of life. I trust thee."
"Say no more. It shall be done," answered Zalos. "The life of every hunter in Sardanes is thine, O king, for the asking." He saluted again, and was gone along the forest paths with his men.
The king was aroused again by the cold muzzle of the dog Pallas thrust against his hand. She whined inquiringly. He patted her rough head.
"Ha, Pallas," he said, "thou art another who fearest not the darkest the Gateway hath to send. And thou art the namesake of a goddess, if the scrolls of the priests read truly; a mighty goddess of old, who was the friend of this Hephaistos. Pallas Athene they did name her. A most wise goddess she, and came not to Sardanes." He rose and led the dogs to their quarters at the rear of the palace hall.
Far up in the side of the Mount Latmos, above the palace, a deep cave pierced the rock. It was the granary, storehouse, and treasury of the Sardanian kings. Thither Minos climbed after his hunters were gone on their errand, carrying with him a smoldering torch of hymanan wood.
At the entrance to the narrow, tortuous passage which led into the cave he whirled the torch into flame and passed in. The cave was wide and deep and high. Along its sides were huge bins, wherein was grain sufficient to garrison a small army for some time. Some forty feet within the cave a small jet of water spurted from a crevice in the rock, ran along a well-worn channel to the mouth of the cave, and drained away down the mountainside.
Minos thrust the torch into a cresset in the wall. He dragged forth from its place a bulky chest of dark, carved wood. From within it shone the gleam of polished metal. The king took out and laid down on the rock floor one by one the pieces of a suit of armor—greaves, corselet, a belt with pendant leaves of metal, a rounded helm with winged crest, and last, a shining, keen-bladed sword in its sheath and thongs.
Aside from the battle in the crater, when Polaris Janess hewed his way out of the kingdom, and an occasional bickering among the quarrelsome fellows, Sardanes had never known war. Then whence this warlike gear?
Little there was in the valley that the king had not interested himself to learn, with the one exception of the religion preached by the priestly crew, at which he scoffed. One of his favorite crafts was that of the smiths who wrought in the iridescent ilium smelted from the mountainsides. It had been his fancy to fashion this suit of mail, beating it from the finest metal and modeling it after the armor sculptured in the groups of statuary at the Judgment House, representing the founders of the race, the Greeks from the blue Aegean Sea. Each piece had Minos copied, only making them of a larger mold, to fit a figure taller and broader than that of any Greek who ever had trodden the valley.
There were no arms like these in Sardanes. Those which the Greeks had brought there had rusted into red dust centuries before.
Minos packed the bright trappings in a sack and carried them with him back to the palace. He had a feeling that the time was near when he should wear them. Then he, too, sought his couch, for he was sorely wearied.
Ill tidings were early on the morrow. Another messenger rode down the valley to tell that one more of the volcanic hills had yielded up its spirit, and that a rim of white snow was creeping over the mountainsides.
One by one came the nobles of the valley to the house of Minos. Each man represented an ancient house, each house one hill of the valley's ring. All were gloomy, some of them beset by fears but little removed from those of the terror-stricken people. The king found less of comfort and support among them than in the company of his hunters, who, at the least and last, would die for him to a man.
Two there were, the oldest and the youngest, who upstood firmly for him.
"That which the king shall decide will Garlanes abide by," said his old-time friend and counselor, still hale and strong despite his grizzled crown. "I am old, and it mattereth little. If it come to an issue, the wrath of Hephaistos shall not divide my friend and me."
Almost insolent in his carelessness was the boy-lord Patrymion. "If this be the end of the world, and thou promisest me a fight before the end, then am I with thee, also, Minos the king," he laughed, "and will kill me a fat priest or two right willingly, if so be that they will fight. Methinks it is they and not thou who do weary their master."
So doubtful was the mien of the remainder of the nobles that the king did not prolong the conference, but soon dismissed them. It was agreed that no decision as to what course to take could be made until Analos had made known the word from the Gateway.
More and more the king felt that he must meet what perils were before him almost alone. His people and the nobles were slipping from him. Well, so be it. His spirit rose to the test.
Two more days passed slowly. Three more of the moons of Sardanes waned from their mountain heights forever. The state of the stricken people bordered on frenzy. All the ordinary pursuits of the valley were abandoned.
Then, at midday, the booming of the drum gave them a moment of wild hope. The word of Hephaistos had come!
Surrounded by his hunters, Minos hastened down the hillside to the Judgment House. From upper Sardanes down to the Gateway the people were assembled, a throng that filled the hall and overflowed in the paved court. The captains of the crafts were gathered at the foot of the steps to the dais. The nobles were in their places. The king ran his eyes quickly along them. Only the Lord Karnaon was missing.
Standing in front of the black stone throne of the high priest was a heavily draped figure. It was not Analos, but one of his ministers.
As soon as the king had seated himself on the throne the priest advanced from his station to the center of the dais and threw back the robe from his face. He was Karthanon, oldest of all the priests of the Gateway, the oldest man in all Sardanes.
For a moment he stood with eyes fixed on the floor, and there was tense silence in the hall and without. He folded his arms. His cracked old voice rose shrilly:
"Minos the king, nobles, and people of Sardanes, greeting. This word from the Lord Hephaistos through the mouth of Analos, mightiest of his servants. List and heed, for a terrible doom falleth, and there is but one way in which it may be held back.
"Let Minos the king forego his kingship. It is written that no more shall a king rule in Sardanes!
"Let her whom they name the Lady Memene be sent to the Gateway, the bride of the great servant of the ancient god.
"Let the man Minos, who hath dared to lay his sacrilegious hand of violence on the sacred person of the mighty high priest Analos, let him be sent to the Gateway also, where he shall be scourged with whips and humiliated as seemeth best to the servants of the god!
"Thus and thus only may the doom be averted, thus the god appeased. Hephaistos hath spoken!"
Through the pause that followed his words broke the voice of Minos. The face of the king was smiling no longer, but fierce as a winter sea as he leaped down from his throne:
"This the answer of Minos to Analos. Hadhedared to come here with such a message as he hath sent, Minos would have thus broken him in two!"
He caught from its place the black stone seat that had stood there for many a hundred years. It was of a weight that would have troubled two stout men to lift, but in his anger the king plucked it up and swung it aloft like a chair of wood. Then it crashed down on the marble floor and splintered to fragments.
"So would I treat thee also, Karthanon, but thou art old, and after all but the bearer of a message. Get thee back to the Gateway and tell thy master that a king still rules in Sardanes!"
The priest shuffled to the entrance at the side of the dais. In the doorway he turned and lifted his hands.
"On the people falleth the dread doom!" he cried.
Through the moments of these happenings not a man in the hall had stirred, save Minos and the priest. Now there was a surge forward toward the dais. Nearest the steps stood Istos, captain of the smiths. He sprang up on the platform.
"Not for one man shall the whole people perish, one man and a maid. I, for one, will strike a blow for the priest and the god!"
Up flashed his spear and drove straight at the breast of Minos. Before ever the king could spring aside or guard, it struck him on the breast, struck hard and clanged and fell on the marble floor.
Minos threw his cloak from him and leaped forward, the torchlights glittering strangely on the suit of armor which he wore. He wrenched from its sheath the good broad sword he had forged, and struck. The keen blade hit the smith on the point of his shoulder and hewed through to his ribs, so terrible was the stroke. With a scream Istos fell and died.
Made mad by fear and superstition, the men in the hall pressed forward. Up the steps they sprang to avenge the smith and seize the king. Minos met them with sword aloft and a fierce smile on his face.
"Never thought Minos to slay his own people," he cried bitterly, "but here be blows for the taking!"
The unarmed nobles fled from the dais. Only Garlanes and the lad Patrymion tarried, seeking weapons. From the rear of the throne poured a score of Minos's hunters.
"For the king!" they shouted, and ranged themselves at his back.
Just as the battle hung in the balance a lad leaped through the door by which the priest had departed. He sprang to the side of the king.
"From Zalos I come," he gasped. "He bade me to tell thee that Karnaon taketh his daughter, the Lady Memene, to the Gateway!"
Three Sardanians lay dying on the steps to the dais. Those behind shrank back from the whirling ilium blade.
"Now here is another black game afoot!" cried Minos. He sheathed his sword. Before the crowd in the hall could guess his purpose, he and his hunters had dashed in hot haste from the rear door of the Judgment House.
In the forest on the slopes above the Judgment House, Minos and his men halted, and the king made a division of his forces. If there was to be battle of the few against the many, he must have a fortress.
"Imacar," he said, "take thou six men and speed on to the cave in the side of Latmos. Hold it against all comers. Seven men may there defy a thousand. I come hither anon, I and these others."
In haste Imacar told off his men, and the king and the others plunged ahead along the forest paths. Below them they could hear the clamor of the crowd at the Judgment House, now confused and undecided whither to pursue.
Over to the left of the rugged heights of the Gateway mount rose the more precipitous steeps of the Mount Zalmon. Between the two was the notch of the northern pass that led into the Hunter's Road. At the foot of Zalmon lay the marshes of the holy river Ukranis. Still farther to the west, on the turn of the hill toward Mount Meor and Mount Latmos, lay the estate and palace of the Lord Karnaon.
As they ran, Minos questioned the lad who had come from Zalos. He learned that two other priests of the Gateway had come down with Karthanon the Aged. While he had gone on to the Judgment House to deliver the message of Analos, they had proceeded to the home of Karnaon. There a conference had been held. At its end the Lady Memene had been summoned. With the priests, her father, and a number of servants they had set out for the Gateway.
"And did she not resist?" asked Minos of the lad.
"Nay, O king, not openly, and thereat was Zalos much perplexed. He followeth on with two men, and knoweth not whether to intervene or no."
There was no direct way by which to reach the Gateway from the Mount Zalmon. The pathway skirted the marshes to the green stone bridge across the Ukranis. From the bridge a road lay straight to the foot of the terraced hill of the god.
Minos, his thirteen hunters, and the lad left the slopes a distance above the marshes, crossed the tilled lands, and reached the bridge. They were none too soon. When they reached the river they could hear voices on the marsh path in the direction of Mount Zalmon. The king bade his men hide in a clump of astarian bush on the river bank.
"Bide thou there, and stir not unless I call," he ordered. Alone, he strode on to the bridge and took his stand in the angle of the first buttress.
He had not long to wait. Within five minutes the party from the palace of Karnaon hurried from the path to the road and approached the bridge. First came the Lord Karnaon, clutching his daughter by the arm. On either side of them walked a sable-robed priest of Hephaistos. Close in the rear seven or eight men of the lord's household slunk along, with many a side-long glance, fearful of they knew not what.
The Lady Memene looked neither to right nor left, but carried herself very straight. Her face was pale now, but her eyes blazed, and her mouth was set in an ominous line.
A burst of shouting came to their ears from up the valley in the direction of the Judgment House, and the members of the party paused at the bridge. As they hesitated, came a hollow clanking, and an apparition moved out from the buttressed rail and confronted them in the bridge's center—a frightening apparition in clashing armor.
For a moment there was awed silence. Karnaon let go his hold on his daughter's arm and stepped a pace forward, for the lord was no coward. The two priests of the Gateway drew close together behind him. From the servants rose a moan of terror, and they seemed ready to make a break up the valley road.
Not one of the party recognized Minos the king in the towering figure on the bridge. To their startled imaginations, he seemed of more than mortal proportions. The red glare from the heights of Zalmon and the Gateway shimmered on his armor. His winged helm shaded his face. For aught they guessed in their first fright, he might be a supernatural messenger come forth to meet them from the temple of Hephaistos—if not the god himself.
He spoke, and broke the spell.
"Whither in such haste goeth the Lord Karnaon, and for what purpose?" demanded the king.
Karnaon started, and immediately pushed forward. "Ha, 'tis but Minos, who was the king," he growled. "Bar not our way, for we be summoned in haste to the Gateway."
"'Whowasking'?" repeated Minos sternly. "Mend thy manners, lord, for the king still liveth, and while he liveth he ruleth."
"Thou art no more king. Analos hath banned thee with the ban of Hephaistos," countered Karnaon. "But I will not waste words with thee. We must hasten."
"Tarry a moment, Karnaon. Thou art all too hasty," Minos replied. "I would learn the mind of the Lady Memene concerning this journey to the Gateway, and if she knoweth its purpose, and goeth willingly."
"What's that to thee, rash man?" said Karnaon. "My daughter doth not wait thy word as to her goings and comings. She doeth as I, her father, command."
"That is only half the truth, father," broke in Lady Memene. "As thou hast commanded, thus far indeed have I done, but there is little of my own will in it."
As she spoke, the girl whipped her cloak aside, and the heart of Minos leaped within him. For on the whiteness of her gown was set a splendid syllana bloom!
One glimpse he had of the shining petals of the blue rose, and the cloak fell back and hid it, but in that one glimpse the mind of the king cast all else aside. She had summoned his aid. Gladly would he face priest or god or angry men for this woman.
One of the priests had been whispering low among the men of Karnaon. Now he sprang aside.
"Seize him!" he yelled.
Armed with spears, the men rushed at the head of the bridge. Karnaon and the girl were thrust aside. Minos saw the flash of glittering points before him, and leaped backward, tearing his sword from its sheath. At the same instant Zalos and his two men, who had crept up unobserved, leaped from the shadow of the bridge to rush in the rear of the spearsmen.
Minos was not minded to slay any of these poor fellows. Already his heart was sore for the four dead men he had left in the Judgment House. Only to save his lady and his own land would he slay. He shouted to his hunters who lay concealed. With the giant form of the king on the bridge in front and the seventeen determined hunters who now ranged themselves behind them, Karnaon's men lost all stomach for fighting. They hung back.
"In, and bear him down!" shouted Karnaon. He snatched a spear from one of his servants. "Fear not, here cometh aid!" It was true. Down the valley came the clamor of running men. Karnaon set foot on the bridge.
Minos leaped from where he stood. Spears clashed on his armor, but he was unscathed by edge or point. Catching one of Karnaon's men by the shoulders, Minos floored three of his fellows with the sweep of the man's body. He broke through them in an instant. The Lord Karnaon struck fiercely at him, but the stroke fell short.
At the side of the bridge stood the Lady Memene. The king paused at her side. His hunters closed in around them. By reason of his superior height, the king could look over the heads of the men around him. Scarce three hundred yards away on the white road were more than a score of running Sardanians, shouting loudly as they came.
"Choose thou, lady," he said low in the girl's ear, "and quickly, for here come those who will make choice for us. One word, and I hold thee against all Sardanes, and to the death."
Here was a strange girl, truly. She looked the king in the eye coolly. "Choose thyself, and please thyself, O king," she answered.
"Thou wearest my flower," he replied.
"And I bear also a gift for the priest," she interposed. "See." She opened her cloak and showed him the hilt of a long-bladed ilium dagger. "Little joy would he have had of the bride he did summon," she said, and laughed a short, hard laugh.
Karnaon's men had rallied. In a moment they would rush the hunters. On down the roadway tore the party from the Judgment House. Minos parleyed no longer. He stooped and caught the girl under shoulders and knees, lifting her as a mother might lift a child.
"To Latmos!" he shouted. "Death be the lot of anyone that stays us!"
Thrusting his way through the hunters, he took the marsh path, running lightly and fleetly, for all the weight of his armor and his lovely burden. Zalos led his hunters in a short, fierce charge that turned back the men of Karnaon, and then the hunters broke and followed fast on the heels of their master.
Where the tilled fields broke into the foothills of Mount Zalmon, Minos turned, and plunged into the forest, making straight for Latmos. Before him all was quiet, but from the rear, where Zalos and the hunters covered his flight, the clamor and clash of arms told him that they were hard pressed. He set the Lady Memene down and drew his sword.
Two of the foremost hunters made a chair for the girl with their crossed hands, and started on for the cave. Minos ran back along the forest pathway. He found a running battle. Karnaon and his servants had joined forces with some thirty Sardanians who had gone to the bridge under the leadership of Gallando the smith. Finding their efforts to win the hunters of Zalos to their aid of no avail, they were making a desperate attempt to annihilate them.
Already two of the stout hunters were down. A number of others bore spear wounds, for all of the men of both the lord and the smith were armed with spears or daggers, and several carried axes.
Minos strode through the press of men to the center of the fighting. He found Zalos bleeding from a gash in his cheek, growling and dealing out blows like a wounded bear.
"Thou has done enough here, old friend," cried the king in the huntsman's ear. "On to the cave, thou and those with thee. 'Tis time that I, who am well protected, took a few of the knocks that are falling. Nay, tarry not. I will hold these who follow in play for a time."
Up flashed his sword, and he sprang into the center of the path. The hunters dashed by him into the shadows, and he stood alone against the pursuers. First man to meet the king was the Lord Karnaon. Spear met sword in midair and, straightway that spear was pointless. The keen blade shore through its haft, cutting it like a straw.
"Thee I will not slay, Karnaon, who wouldst slay me!" cried Minos. With his left hand he clutched the noble by the belt, jerked him forward, and hurled him back against the foremost of the pursuers so violently that both men fell and lay stunned in the path. Half a dozen ilium spears clashed on the king's armor, and one grazed his neck as he leaped over the fallen men and met their fellows. In an instant he was among them, swinging his weapon until it shone in the pale light of the stars like a whirling ilium wheel.
"Come on, thou whom the priest hath made mad," he shouted. "Minos, who before had little to fight for, now hath much. Here lieth a short, straight road to the Gateway." As he shouted, he struck.
So close he was, that spears were well-nigh useless to the men who bore them, and daggers fell harmless upon his armor. The broad, keen blade made sore havoc among the unarmored Sardanians. Three men were down and dead and a half dozen others were out of the fight with wounds to nurse, when Gallando the smith faced the king.
Gallando fought with an ax. He was a large man and powerful. Watching his chance, he leaped to one side, just as Minos stumbled over the body of one of the slain men. For only an instant the broad blade faltered, and gave the smith opportunity. He swung his ax with both hands and brought it down on the winged helm of the king.
Minos saw the smiting danger and stooped low to avoid the stroke. It fell on the helmet with the clang of an anvil blow. Down to his knees sank the king, his senses swaying. Had the stroke of the smith's ax been one jot more direct, his opponent had not risen again; but it lacked that jot. The rounded helm turned the flow aside. The ax crashed from it to the ground, and was buried to the haft.
Recovering his balance, the smith poised himself for another stroke. Minos, his head still swimming, raised his sword as if to parry, then cast it from him suddenly, lunged forward and gripped Gallando about the knees. He put forth his strength in a mighty tug, causing the smith to let fall the ax. Before ever a man could move to his rescue, Gallando found the arms of the king clipped about his waist.
Never but once in his life had a man bested Minos at the wrestling game. Now, fighting for his life, he crushed the burly smith to him. Twice he contracted the muscles of his great arms. The veins of his forehead stood out with the strain, and his helm fell from his head. Once more he exerted all the strength of his body, bending forward to bring his weight to bear. Something snapped like a breaking stick. Gallando's head fell back and his body went limp in the arms of Minos. His back was broken.
With Gallando dead and Karnaon out of the battle, the Sardanians lacked a leader with sufficient heart to take up the tale. They stood for a moment with staring eyes as the corpse of the smith rolled at their feet. Then they gave way and ran.
Catching his helmet and sword from the ground, Minos hastened on toward the cave. On the hillside above the palace he stopped, cupped his hands and shouted, "Alternes!"'
A faint hail from below told that the lad had heard the call. "Loose the beasts," cried the king, "and then seek safety."
He waited a few moments, and then sent down through the dusk a long, shrill whistle. A full-throated chorus was his answer. Before he reached the mouth of the cave, Pallas and her six gray children had shot up the hill and were leaping about their master.
Basin after basin, channel on channel, the roaring lyddite tore in the ice jam at the lower end of Ross Sea. Untiringly the miners of Captain Scoland plied their drills. The steel-cladMinnetonka, ever restless as a prisoner pacing his narrow cell, churned and smashed about in each new harbor which the blasters formed for her, thus preventing the ice forming again into a solid mass, and holding her fast. Always alert, she dashed through each new passageway.
Now to the right, now to the left, the cruiser advanced, as the men blasted her zigzag channel course. As each new forward step was taken, the pressure of the vast jam closed the way and the channel was left behind. It was slow work, but sure. Behind the adventurers the sun came slowly on his southern path, turning dim twilight into weak and pallid day.
Steadily as they worked, ten days passed and saw the blasters little more than a third of the way across the enormous jam.
All around them thundered and crashed the ice in the grip of the great breaking forces. At times the uproar of smitten bergs and cracking floes made the sound of their exploding lyddite seem a puny and futile mockery of nature's mighty hammers. On the decks of theMinnetonkauneasy men paced restlessly, and worn by waiting and danger, cursed or prayed, according to their natures. In their long hutches, the Alaskan dogs, still more uneasy, snarled and howled.
Seeking to turn the delay to some advantage, Polaris selected from the forty-odd dogs on the ship seven of the likeliest, and, with sledge and harness, left the ship to acquaint himself with them. It was time that they knew the master whom they must carry both fast and far. Huskies they were, from the finest of the Yukon strains, big and shaggy, their coats splotched with brown and white, but they were not the equals in size or strength of gray Marcus and his fellows, which the son of the snows had driven aforetime. He found them not at all lacking in temper.
On a level spot in the floe, not far from the ship, Polaris laid out his harness, and chose his animals for the positions in which he would have them run. Largest of all the brutes was the tawny Boris, sullen and vicious, but intelligent. Polaris selected him as the team leader, and the lessons began.
Awed at first by their strange surroundings, affrighted by the thundering ice and the occasional shuddering of the floe, the brutes flinched and whimpered, paying little attention to the man. Then over their backs and about their ears shrieked and cracked an eighteen-foot lash that demanded notice. With ears laid flat, the dogs cowered into a tense group, burning eyes alternating from the writhing whip, which snapped above them, but fell not, to the man who wielded it.
Urged by lash and voice, not one, but the seven as one, responded in a concerted rush on the new master. Snarling hideously, they flung themselves upon the man. Sailors watching from the ship set up a cry of consternation when they saw Polaris apparently overwhelmed by a wave of maddened dogs. But the son of the snows was a match for any dog team that ever snaked a sledge. He met their rush with a powerful hand and a ready whipstock, that seemed never to miss its aim. For the whip that had only menaced before fell now in earnest, fell on tender snouts with stinging force and a most disconcerting accuracy. Once more the mutinous beasts cowered away, trotting in circles with bared teeth, but loth to try conclusions with that vengeful whip-butt.
Boris, the leader, alone was unsubdued and persistent. Again and again, the brute gathered himself together and charged and leaped, howling with rage. Each time the waiting whip rose up to meet him, and the great brute, twisting his head in midair, sprang short and aside, to circle madly on the ice for another opening.
Soft-voiced methods were of no avail with Boris. He must be made to feel the power of the master, must be conquered at once, or he would be forever treacherous and useless.
Again the dog sprang from his haunches. That time no whip seemed waiting, but rested at the man's side. The huge brute, with a moan of hate, launched himself straight at his adversary's throat. Crouched low, Polaris let him come. Lightning quick, the left hand of the man flashed out and closed on the windpipe of Boris, just below the clashing jaws. Watching sailors on theMinnetonkarubbed their eyes and looked again in wonder.
Polaris stood rigid as a statue in steel. His left arm extended straight in front of him, and in his grasp he held the struggling animal, held him as he had caught him, in midair, a yard above the ice—and Boris was no toy, but would have tipped the scales to the weight of a powerful man. Polaris' cap had fallen to the ice in the struggle. He wore his white bearskin garments. His yellow hair tossed back, he seemed to the watching, wondering men the embodiment of the wild spirit of this wild land, come into his own again.
With a stern eye to the other dogs, he held Boris, as though in a vise, and fear grew in the stout and sullen heart of the brute. To the terror of those steely fingers that clutched his throat was added the terror of the empty air, through which his four feet thrashed madly, and could find no hold or rest. The deadly grip tightened. The dog's struggles grew weaker and weaker. His jaws gaped wide. He gasped and gulped in vain for one breath of air that should give him life and energy and spirit to fight on. His struggles ceased, and he hung limp in the hand of the master.
Gently Polaris set the animal down on the ice, and relaxed the grim hold on his throat. With great gasps Boris took into his lungs once more the life-giving air. The man snaked in the long whiplash. Waiting a few moments until the great dog's senses had fully returned, he took a yard of the thongy tip of the lash and laid it smartly across the flanks of Boris, not cruelly, but with sufficient sting to make the punishment tell. The other dogs trotted uneasily about, sniffing, whining, and eying their fallen leader.
Presently Polaris stood up, turned his back deliberately on Boris and walked a few steps from him, still holding the whip. He called the dog to come to him. The huge animal arose, shook himself, glanced shamefully at his mates, stretched himself, tossed his head with a snort, and followed after the man. Polaris bent down and patted his shaggy head, with a word of encouragement. At his touch, the brute trembled slightly, but the man's voice was reassuring, and the whip hung idle. Boris rubbed his head against the knee of Polaris and whined. He had found his master, and he knew it. Other dogs might, and did, turn on Polaris again, but Boris never.
One by one, the other brutes learned their lesson of obedience, learned that they served a wise and vigilant master, and gave in to the lash and the harness. Soon the man was able to take them far afield, and crossed the floe to the east for a number of long runs.
On the twenty-ninth day from the firing of the first lyddite blasts, the stoutMinnetonkashook her sides clear of the drift-ice from the last channel, and shot southward into free water. Picking up the miners and Polaris and his team, Scoland pointed a course some three miles from the eastern shore, and the cruiser tore on under forced draft, so continuously that the canny MacKechnie shook his gray head many a time and oft over the depletion of coal-bunkers.
"'Tis all varra weel, the gettin' on in such haste," he grumbled, "'but, ma certes, 'twill be a long, weary drive back again, and coal doesna grow on icebergs."
Several days of clear going gave all on the ship opportunity to take much needed rest, after the perils and labor that had racked both minds and bodies. Spring and spirits returned to jaded men, and it was an eager and hopeful crew that cheered to the echo on the day that Polaris shouted from the bridge:
"Steer the ship in to the left. Yonder is a point of land that my eyes remember well, and behind it a harbor that marks the end of this journey, I am certain."
It was the rocky promontory across which his own ship of ice had been broken, nearly two years before. Inland, to the north, extended the looming barrier range, which he had sought in vain to pass.
Polaris and old Zenas Wright stood on the bridge as the cruiser rounded the headland. The young man clapped the geologist on the shoulder, and pointed up the snow-covered slope, that led from the cove to the foothills beyond.
"There lies the way," he shouted, "straight in to the east, the way to Sardanes!"
Near to the cave entrance on the Latmos hill King Minos found the Lord Patrymion. The boy was sitting on a boulder, swinging his heels against it and whistling in a minor key the bars of a Sardanian love ditty. Leaning against the rock beside him was a long-hafted bear spear. In his belt were thrust a dagger and a heavy-bladed hatchet.
As the king came from among the trees, the lad stood up and saluted. Minos saw that the arm he raised was bandaged above the elbow. The king, whose own neck bore a slight cut, where a spear had stung as it hummed by him in the forest mêlée, and whose tunic and armor were red with blood not his own, smiled grimly.
"And did the Lord Patrymion perchance fall and bruise himself in the forest paths?" he asked.
"Nay, nay, O king, I came by this while a-hunting," laughed the lad.
"Hunting?" queried Minos.
"Aye, the game we play now in Sardanes hath fulfilled a part of its contract to my great satisfaction. Not an hour agone I did stick me the good, fat priest whereof we talked awhile back. Right pleasantly did he kick and squeal—"
"Hast slain a priest of the Gateway?" Minos asked him. "I fear that is ill done."
"Nay, king, 'twas well done. 'Twere well, indeed, with us, were every one of the black crew hot alight in their own fires, with Analos, the high priest, frying merrily atop the heap. Then, perhaps, would the people listen to reason. This fellow did come from the Gateway to my palace on Epamon's sides, whither I had gone from the Judgment House to arm myself. He would have haled me thence to the Gateway like an unwilling maid. When he found me coy, he did raise mine own household men against me. Well, he got a dagger in his midriff for his trouble. And I got this scratch on the arm, with perchance a slit throat to follow, were it not that I am somewhat swift of foot. My men did rage upon me like fiends when they saw the priest down. I thought it better to die here in good company than where I was, so I came away."
"Hast seen Garlanes?" asked Minos.
"Nay, nor will I," said the lad shortly. "The men of Analos slew him on the portico of his own hall. That I had from the priest who came to summon me. Had he not given me that word, I might have spared him."
The king bowed his head. Garlanes had been his dear friend.
Within the cave the warmth from the bowels of the hill was almost oppressive. The men had lighted torches and oil lamps, and were dressing their hurts, of which there were not a few, and discussing in low tones the details of the fighting.
In a carved chair of wood, just beyond the rim of light, the Lady Memene sat. Her face, as she rested it on her hand, was almost devoid of expression, but her black eyes, alert and lustrous, missed no detail of the scene before her. Minos removed a part of his armor, and laved his head and hands in the little streamlet. Although the girl appeared to take no note of him, not a move that he made escaped her. Each time that the king's glance strayed to her, and that was often, she appeared to be watching the hunters or the dogs, or anything but himself.
When he had removed the stains of battle, Minos crossed to her side. He seated himself on an ancient chest and considered her for a time with puzzled eyes. She made no move, nor seemed to notice that he was there.
"Lady," he said at length, "lady of the blue rose and the keen dagger, who reckest so little which thou usest, canst tell me now why thou hast come here?"
"Come here?" she echoed quickly. "Why, because thou didst carry me a part of the way and thy friend yonder the other part. Why else?" She flashed him an elfish smile.
"So we did," he answered. "Wouldst go back?"
"Not yet—unless thou sendest me," she replied cooly. "There is little at the Gateway to stir my heart. Here—" She paused, and the king bent forward that he might lose no word of her answer. "Here, methinks events will pass that will be worth the watching—unless thou dost weary of my presence and bid me go seek Analos."
Minos straightened his back suddenly. "Lady," he said, "I find thee of a temper like to that of the Lord of Patrymion, who would make believe that he careth naught for tears and death and doom, and laugheth at all alike. Yet back of all thy quips and scorns I believe there dwelleth in thee a spirit brave and true, as there doth in him also."
The girl inclined her head, but there was mockery in the bow. "Thou doest me too great honor, my Lord Minos," she replied. "Count not too greatly on thy estimate, for I fear thou hast mistaken me sadly."
This fencing with words suited Minos not at all. "In one thing I mistake not," he said, "and that is the heart of Minos." He hesitated, and then asked her, gravely and slowly, "Lady Memene, wilt be the bride of Minos?"
A ringing peal of silvery laughter was his answer, but the girl drew farther back into the shadows that the king might not see the red flush on her cheeks.
"Strange is the time thou choosest for thy wooing of a bride, O king! Thy kingdom tottereth. Scarce a score in all the land are faithful to thee. Thy head is target for curse of priest and spear of enemy. Mayhap Sardanes itself dieth. Yet dost thou woo a bride."
Up to his full height drew the king and looked down upon her. She waited for an angry answer, but none came.
"Nay, thou canst not provoke me, lady," he said gently. "I know not how it is, but the love I bear thee I think is so strong that it will endure all things and abide forever. All that thou sayest is true. In spite of all, I wait an answer."
Still farther into the shadows withdrew Memene. Her eyes shone strangely.
"The end is not yet. When that end cometh—when thou hast won or lost all that there is to win or lose, then thou shalt have an answer, King Minos, shouldst thou still desire it."
"Be it so, lady, I hold thee to the end, and will seek my answer then, though it be at the gates of death." He bowed and turned away.
Outside the cave two of the dogs were baying. Through the rifted rock came the voice of the Lord Patrymion.
"Here cometh the overlord of the Gateway devils. Say, king, shall I loose the beasts on him?"
"Nay, loose them not," called Minos. He caught up his arms and hastened to join the lad on the hillside.
Some forty paces down the slope stood Analos.
Patrymion held the gray dogs by their collars. "Well would I like to see them worry him," he grumbled. "Perhaps it is best for the brutes," he added. "They would surely die of a stomach sickness, did they taste him."
"What wouldst thou of Minos, Analos of the Gateway?" demanded the king. "Thou hast turned the valley to madness. Here we have little need for thee. Were it not that I will slay no more except to save myself and those with me from death, I would send a spear through thee where thou standest, Analos. Say, what wouldst thou here?"
"Insult me thou hast, slay me thou canst not," answered the priest, glowering up at the king from where he stood with folded arms. "Hephaistos protecteth his servant. I came to say to thee that the great doom falleth apace. Mountain after mountain adown the valley giveth up its fires. All upper Sardanes wasteth. This shall go on until thou and those with thee are humbled and Sardanes is as one in submission to the ancient god.
"Beside thee standeth one who this day hath smitten a priest of the Gateway. Give him up. Come thou with him to the Gateway, thou and the girl. For the sake of thy people, Minos, for the sake of the very existence of the Sardanes, yield thee to the god."
"Analos," answered the king, "did Minos for one instant believe that by any act of his Sardanes might be saved, in that instant he would perform it, however bitter. But thou are a madman, thy god of thine own distorted fancy. The things that are happening are in obedience to some law of nature whereof we know not. They will pass, and all will be as before, or they will continue, and Sardanes will be no more. Let that fall out as it is fated. Minos waits the end here, and yieldeth to no man."
Zalos and several of the hunters had come from the cave. Analos turned from the king to them.
"What saith the Captain Zalos?" he demanded. "For this rash man, no longer king of thine, and for the woman he hath stolen, art thou prepared to die and to go cursed of Hephaistos to the torments he hath in store for those who rebel against him? Say, wilt not give him up, he and the maid, and save thyself and thy companions?"
"That will I not," answered the captain. "We have eaten the king's bread, and we are his faithful servants. Where he standeth, there stand we. Whither he leadeth, there we follow, be it to battle, to death, or to ghostland and its torments, if such there be. Forsake him? Not until my breath forsaketh my body!"
Zalos faced his men. "Is it not so?" he growled. "If there be a man among ye who thinketh otherwise, let him speak and stand forth." He fumbled with the dagger in his belt.
"Needst not fret with thy dagger, Captain," laughed one of the hunters. "We be all of one mind, and thou hast said it."
"I thank thee, friend," said Minos. His hand fell lovingly on the captain's shoulder.
"After all this useless talk, methinks some diversion impendeth," whispered the lad Patrymion. "Unless mine eyes are passing poor, spear points gleam in the thicket yonder and men are moving."
Minos peered keenly into the shadows beyond the priest. He, too, saw dim, moving shapes, and caught the glint of bare blades. He tightened his grip on his sword-hilt.
"Zalos," he said, "slip thou within the cave and fetch me the ilium disk that leaneth against the wall near to the spring. I think there is like to be more fighting anon, and I am still unwearied. Take the dogs with thee. They be of rash mettle, and I would not have them harmed."
Analos still stood in the little clearing, eying them gloomily, his features working.
"An the holy rascal swelleth much more with anger he will burst, and the foulness of the venom let loose from him surely will overcome us all," said Patrymion with grim humor. "See how his beard waggeth."
Zalos came from the cave and passed to the king an oval plate of burnished ilium, nearly four feet in length and wide enough more than to cover his broad chest. It was the shield which went with the other arms he had fashioned. It had a broad leather arm-strap and a handhold affixed to its concave side.
The king slipped it onto his arm.
With a shake of his shoulders, the priest cast his black robe from him and stood forth in the red vestments of the office of death. He waved his arms in air.
"Sons of Sardanes," he roared, "do the god's will!"
From every rock and tree near him creeping men sprang to their feet. A swarm of yelling spearmen charged up the slope.
At the opening of the passage into the cave the way was scarcely wide enough for two men to enter abreast. Farther in, where the entrance curved, it was narrower yet. There Minos elected to meet the attackers. He ordered the other men into the cave, whither Patrymion went sorely against his will.
"Art not going to take all the sport to thyself, king, I hope?" he asked. "I would make claim to a share in it."
"Thou shalt have it, and to spare, my lad," said Minos comfortingly. "No one of us will have complaint for lack of fighting while yonder red robe flameth in the valley."
As he spoke the king backed into the cave-passage and took position at the first turn, crouching low behind his shield. "Stand thou behind me here," he directed the boy, "and into thy keeping I commend any who may pass me." The king and the boy took their places.
The spearsmen of Analos, fully two hundred strong, poured over the little plateau on which the cave fronted. With a rush and yell they came, but found no foe to fight. Only the dark riff in the rock yawned silently before them. Strain their eyes as they might, they could not see what danger lay in wait for them within.
After a brief conference they decided to force the entrance, for Sardanians, when not arrayed against their own superstitions, were not cowards. Two by two, for the way was narrow, they crept into the passageway. Those foremost proceeded cautiously, and with their spear points well advanced.
In this warfare all the advantage lay with Minos. The besiegers could not see him, but from his position they were outlined against what light there was without the cave, and the king could see them well.
So it was that groping forward the spears of the first two of the attacking party clanged against something that was not rock. A flash in the dusk before them, a whine in the air, where the sword of Minos sang as it flew and two of the warriors of Analos were out of the fight forever.
Behind them their companions sprang to their feet and thrust desperately with their spears. So straight was the way that there was little room for spear play. Thrust and cast alike fell on the rocky wall or the shield of the king. Out of the darkness the strongest arm in all Sardanes swung unceasingly, dealing blows that none could see or parry.
The passage became hideous with cries and groans. Only Minos fought in grim silence. At his shoulder young Patrymion stood and laughed aloud at death unloosed.
Presently the king found his blows falling on empty air. Convinced that this method of battle was of small avail, the priest's men withdrew from the cave, dragging with them the fallen. They carried eight men down the steep sides of Latmos, to be sent to the Gateway, and five others were so sorely smitten by the blade that guarded the narrow way that they were little better than corpses.
"Now, let us out, master, and fall on them from behind," said Zalos. "One good charge may break their spirit."
Minos shook his head. "Nay, Zalos, we fight not save to defend ourselves. This slaughter of my people doth grieve me much. Would that 'twere at an end!"
"In verity, if thou grievest over long in thy present fashion, there will be none left in Sardanes to withstand thee," put in Patrymion. "At least let me go forth and hunt the high priest. With him dead, the rest are easily managed."
"Nay, he shall not be slain, and there's an end," said Minos sternly. "He hath coupled his mad talk to these strange manifestations in Sardanes, and so brought about all the trouble that is on foot. His death now will mend matters but little, for he hath done his damage among the people. When things right themselves once more (if, indeed, they ever do come aright), it is my will that he be living witness to his own confusion."
"Have they gone, or do they still watch, I wonder?" said Patrymion. He turned the passage and walked boldly to the entrance. Scarcely had he reached it when a spear whizzed by his ear and splintered on the rock wall. He picked the shattered weapon up with a laugh. "We are still watched," he said, as he bore it back into the cave.
Below in the hall of the Judgment House the stroke of the great drum echoed through the valley, giving notice of the passing of another day—a day fuller of events in Sardanes than any since Polaris of the Snows had fought his great fight on the crater-rim and struck out for the unknown North.
Through the sleeping hours a watchful hunter stood guard at the turn in the cave-passage, but no attempt was made to surprise the besieged. They ate from the store of grain in the cave and took what rest they could, undisturbed. With cloths from the king's chests the hunters curtained off a section of the cave for the Lady Memene, and thither she withdrew in silence, to sit with wakeful eyes through half the slumber hours.
On the morrow there was little rest for any. Within an hour of the first drum-stroke, the clamor of fighting men rang through the cave once more.
Again Minos took up the tale, but he found his foes more wary. Not again would they rush blindly the narrow way and the singing sword. They built a big wood fire at the edge of the plateau, in such a position that its flames cast their light into the passage. Six of their strongest warriors charged the cave-mouth. Four of them engaged the battling giant with their spears. The other two, on hands and knees, endeavored to creep under his guard, and got near enough to pull him down.
Straightway the Lord Patrymion went down on all fours, and with a spear in either hand fought between the knees of the king. As he fought, he taunted the attackers with mocking jests more bitter than the spear-thrusts. With his legs guarded, the strength of Minos was more than the strength of six. Of those who charged, only two reached the outer plateau alive.
In the respite the king turned and became aware of the Lady Memene. Shrouded in her long cloak, she stood against the wall of the passage, almost at his shoulder. She had watched the fighting with kindling eyes, but when Minos turned to look at her, she assumed again the mantle of indifference. Only behind the folds of her cloak one of her little feet was tapping, tapping on the rocky floor.
"Lady Memene, I pray thee, go within. Here is no place for thee," the king said. "A chance spear might pass this guard of mine, and then were all of Minos's fighting of no avail."
Wordless, she turned away and disappeared among the shadows.
Time after time the Sardanians, in stubborn fury, charged the cave-mouth. They fetched ladders from the valley, erected them against the cliff-face at the sides of the fissure, where the wall rose too sheer for a foothold otherwise. From the ladders, spearsmen leaped down, essaying to overwhelm the guardians of the pass and bear them down. But Minos drew back to where the closing roof of the entrance defended him from their attempts, and men who fell found the great sword and the keen spears of Patrymion and Zalos always waiting.
But one man, however brave and strong, cannot fight an army. Slowly, very slowly, the warriors of the priest tired that mighty sword-arm, although the dauntless spirit behind it flagged not. Again and again the rock passage was choked with dead and dying. Its floor ran red with blood. As often, the besiegers dragged the bodies of their comrades forth and renewed the struggle with fresh men. The champions of the god showed a fighting will even with that of Minos, laying on for his own head and his dear lady.
At last the king, sorely wearied, and wounded, although but slightly, in a score of places, yielded his place to Zalos and the Lord Patrymion. The lad took the shield of the king, and knelt with his spear at the turn of the passage. Behind him the stout captain plied a ponderous woodsman's ax with both hands, and the battle went on.
An unexpected circumstance ended the conflict. Several of the Sardanians on the cliffside with their long ladders discovered a ledge some forty feet above the opening into the cave and scrambled to it. On the ledge lay a number of large boulders, masses that had rolled down and rested there perhaps an age before.
With much labor and prying with spear-hafts, the men brought down several of the smaller rocks to the lip of the ledge. Poising one of them where, as nearly as they could judge, it would fall straight into the passage below, they waited for a lull in the fight. When they saw the pass clear of their fellows, they loosed the big stone with a shout.
Down it crashed, but, aimed too far to the left, missed the cleft and struck on the cliff-face with such force that a part of it flew to splinters. The main mass bounded through the air, struck again at the edge of the plateau, and thundered down the slope, carrying three of Analos's fighting men with it.
Unheeding the cries of their fellows from below to desist, the men on the ledge poised another boulder with better aim. It smashed into the rock corridor so near to the turn that the wind from it blew hard in the face of the Lord Patrymion, looking forth, and it struck the spear from his grasp and shattered it.
Up sprang the lad with a loud laugh.
"Now there's an end to this pleasant business of fighting," he said to Zalos, and pointed to the fallen rock. It lay wedged in the passage, jammed against the sides, and breast high, a natural barrier, stronger than the shield of Minos. One active man might hold the pass against any number, as long as he held strength to thrust, for room was left for but one man to pass over the rock at a time, and in no position for fighting.
Outside the plateau the Sardanians also had seen this new guardian in the narrow way, and reviled their fellows on the ledge for their lack of thought.
Nevertheless, they made one more attempt. They fetched up the slope a long and heavy timber of hymanan wood. Fixing an ilium-bar the thickness of two spear-hafts across the crevice, they slung the beam from it with a stout rope. Twenty men then seized the bar and swung the battering-ram against the boulder until they were weary. Every blow did but fix the rock firmer. All efforts to ram it in to where it might fall into the wider portion of the passage failed. They gave it up.
"Here we may stay now until we be old and gray-headed, Zalos," said Patrymion ruefully. "There can be no more fighting worth the telling. They cannot come at us. A puny girl could withstand them all here." He peered over the rock. "Aye, they know it, the rogues, and are going. 'Twill be but poor sport here." To himself he added: "I know a better, even though it lasteth but a few moments. What's the odds?"
Carried away by the love of fighting, a madness seemed to seize the lad. He let fall the shield of Minos, caught Zalos's ax from his hand, and before any man could hinder, he leaped over the rock.
"'Tis a pretty weapon," he called back over his shoulder to the hunter, and shook the ax aloft. "I will use it well." He ran out across the plateau singing loudly.
Unmindful of the danger, the hunter captain clambered over the rock to follow him. It was too late. For an instant Zalos saw the lad outlined clearly in the glare from the fire on the plateau, swinging the great ax with both hands. Then the spearsmen closed in on him from all sides. Four men he felled with four lightning strokes, and went down, dying as he had lived, with careless song on his lips, making a jest of death itself.
A storm of spears fell about the hunter as he emerged into the light, and he was fain to scramble back into the passage and over the rock to save his own skin.
Utterly exhausted, Minos, when he left the battle, had entered the cave and thrown himself on a couch to regain breath and strength for further combat. His hunters dressed his wounds and chafed his numbed sword-arm. First to reach him with water and bandages was Memene, but when she saw that his injuries were light and that he was merely tired, she gave way to the men and went back to her carved chair. But as she sat, one of her feet was ever tapping softly.
After a time came Zalos, and told his story to the king. Minos stood up and called for wine. When the beaker was fetched, he bowed low toward the rocky entrance, raising one hand in silent salute, and drank.
"To whom dost thou drink a toast, King Minos?" asked the girl, who noted all with curious eyes.
"To a brave man gone from among us," he replied gravely; "to a very brave man, to the Lord Patrymion."
Around the rocky headland, and into the cove swung theMinnetonka. The cove afforded the cruiser a safe harbor, storm-protected and free from ice. Down swung the boats from their davits, filled with eager men. For the first time shouting American sailors set foot on the shore where, more than two thousand years before, the little band of Achaeans had left the wreck of their ancient trireme, and pushed on into the unknown wilderness to find and people Sardanes.
Scoland, from the wireless room on the cruiser's deck, released the electric current that sent a splitting, chattering call out along the air-waves to the north. Nor was that call long unanswered.
Loaded with supplies and coal, the staunch old shipFelix, which Scoland had commanded on his previous polar dash, had left America before theMinnetonka. The faster cruiser had passed theFelixon the sea-road, but she had toiled sturdily along, and was now in harbor at the upper end of Ross Sea to wait what might befall; theFelixand her wireless constituted the one link that joined the Sardanian relief expedition to the outer world.
In the second boat to the shore went Polaris Janess and his dogs. The son of the snows was moccasined and furred, and ready to try conclusions with the worst that the white wildernesses had to put forth against him, the wildernesses that once had been his home. He wore the garments of white bearskin that had kept the warmth in his body in his great dash to the north.
His hair of red-gold had now grown long and hung again to his shoulders. Except that time and the perils through which he had passed had marked his face a thought more grave, he was the same indomitable young man who once had fought his way across the drift-ice in this selfsame cove, when the fiends from the sea deeps, the killer whales, had striven in vain to make a meal of him, and his Rose maid had stood on the snowy shore and called encouragement to him in his fight.
Beside Polaris in the boat was seated the short, wide figure of Zenas Wright. His white hair shone from under a shapeless cap of lynx fur from the Hudson Bay country. He was buttoned to the ears in a suit of mackinaw wool with a furred parka. Like the young man, he had a pair of snowshoes slung at his back. He, too, was determined to tread the white pathway to Sardanes.
Polaris had done his best to dissuade the aged scientist from the attempt, and Scoland had added his plea. The determination of the old man to go with Polaris had seemed a particular annoyance to the captain. Zenas Wright would listen to neither argument nor entreaty.
"In my time I've put my name on one or two spots on the map," he said, "but I would rather have it erased than to miss my share in this expedition. I'm going to see this Sardanes of yours, my son, if I have to leave my old bones there. I was responsible for your coming down here. Now I'm going in with you. You are not going to take all the risks alone. Don't try to stop me. My mind's made up, and I'm obstinate as a Tennessee mule."
Ashore with them went the ship's carpenters with tools and lumber to establish a winter camp. A number of shacks were knocked together. More sledges and dogs were taken ashore. Within a couple of days a small but noisy settlement had sprung up on the bay shore. Men and beasts, confined for many weary weeks to the cramped quarters aboard the cruiser, were glad, indeed, to have the chance to be ashore and move about freely, bleak as the place was. Shouts and barks arose joyously where for untold centuries few voices had been heard except those of many-tongued Nature herself.
Sure that his wireless connections with theFelixwere in working order, and that the crew of the supply ship had chosen a safe harbor, where he could find them, Captain Scoland also went ashore, and threw himself energetically into the details of camp making.
Never a talkative man, the tall captain had grown, in the latter days of their voyaging, more taciturn than ever. Morose and moody, for hours at a time he never opened his lips except for the giving of orders, and they were more sharp and stern than even was his wont. His associates had been quick to notice those things, but laid them to the cares and dangers of their enterprise. In one thing the captain was not lacking. That was a great capacity for work. Scarcely a detail of the work on board the cruiser or ashore went forward without his personal supervision.
Seeing that the heart of Zenas Wright was firm set on making the trip inland to Sardanes, Polaris, with inward impatience, was forced to delay the immediate start he had premeditated. Once started, the going would be swift as they were capable of, and it would be a cruelty to expect the older man, unused for years to snow travel, to keep up the pace on snowshoes.
While others of the party were busy with the camp building, Polaris and the scientist spent hours on the snow slopes, and made a number of short trips over the ridge to the east. As the young man had foreseen, Wright's first experience with the shoes nearly crippled him. In the course of a couple of days, however, his joints and muscles were limbered to the labor, and he was able to make surprising progress, proving his boast that he was an adept snow runner.
Scoland, whom previous years in both Arctic and Antarctic regions had made expert in the management of dogs, selected himself a team from the huskies, and took a sudden interest in snow journeying, an activity that nearly cost the expedition dearly.
On the second day after their arrival at the cove, a man came ashore from theMinnetonkawith a message for the captain from Aronson on theFelix. The message bearer failed to find Scoland at the shacks. When Polaris and Zenas Wright came in later, at the end of their day's exercise, the captain was still missing. They had not seen him. Dogs and sledge which the captain had been using were missing also.
"Either he is strayed and lost in the snow, or some manner of mishap has befallen," said Polaris. "I will go and find him."
Turning his own beasts, he set out at once to study the tangle of snow trails that led inland from the camp. There had been no snow and little wind for a number of days, so it was an easy matter for him to read the paths. Starting from the ridge at the back of the cove, he swung out in a long loop, whose farther curve took him five miles or more from the camp. Four trails he crossed that were plainly back-trailed. The fifth snow path that he came to led on into the wilderness, with no evidence of a return, and he followed that.
Along the foothill slopes of the icy barrier mountains the land lay comparatively level, except for the rocky hummocks that were everywhere sprinkled. A few miles to the south of the range, low rolling hills began again, extending as far as eye might see. Into the hills Scoland's trail lay. Some six miles from where Polaris first picked up the path, he found the captain.
Where a deep and jagged crevasse yawned beneath its treacherous coverlet of snow crust, the trail ended. Where the crust had broken under their weight, men and dogs and sledge had disappeared into the depths.
Outspanning and tethering his own team to a rock, the son of the snows crept forward cautiously to the brink of the chasm.
Scarcely a yard below the level of the broken snow bridge, Scoland's sledge was caught fast between two projecting teeth of rock and hung over the crevasse. Head downward in their harness, and frozen stiff and dead, dangled the carcasses of two of the captain's huskies. Below them the forward harness hung in strips. Peering into the lower deep of the crevasse, as his eyes became accustomed to its gloom, Polaris could make out the mass of fallen snow from the bridge. It lay forty feet below him, on the floor of the crevasse, which extended away to either side in an irregular corridor, rock-walled and carpeted with snow. Of the man and the other dogs he could see nothing.
He shouted, and his heart leaped gladly, when, faint and weak and far-away, came an answering halloo, followed immediately by the howling of dogs. Scoland lived!
Lengths of thin, stout rope were part of the equipment of every sledge, and with each a small steel pulley for hauling. Polaris sprang to his sledge and fetched his tackle.
Testing every inch of the rock with his utmost strength, he crept over the lip of the crevasse, whipped a short bight of rope about one of the rocks that held the wreck of Scoland's sledge, swung his pulley and threaded it. Of rope he had nearly a hundred feet, so that, doubled, it reached the floor of the crevasse, and to spare. He did his work in haste.
Within five minutes of the time of Scoland's answering hail from the depths, Polaris went down the doubled rope hand under hand, and set foot on the crevasse bottom. He shouted again, and again received a faint answer, away to the south in the windings of the crooked corridor. He started that way, and had gone but a few steps when, whimpering and howling, two of the captain's dogs came floundering through the snow to meet him.
When Scoland broke through the crust he had been running with the dogs ahead of his sledge. He had pitched downward with the mass of falling snow, and landed, badly shaken but uninjured, on the floor of the crevasse. He saw at once that it would be impossible at the point where he fell to scale the height of the crevasse wall. The corridor-like fissure, extending south, took an upward course. The captain followed its windings in that direction, hoping that it would lead again to the surface.
Another mishap had made his case almost hopeless. A break in the rocky floor, masked by snow, yawned across the entire width of the chasm. In the half darkness, Scoland had reached its edge. Too late he felt the snow slipping from beneath his feet, and fell again. He had found himself in a pocket some eight feet deep, its sides so sheer that he could not climb them. Vainly he explored every inch of the walls at either side, and tore at the rocks until his hands bled, in an effort to gain a hold. His struggles only brought exhaustion. Three of his huskies had taken the leap, the other two remaining in the upper corridor.
Utterly worn out, the captain at length had curled himself up with the beasts. The warmth of their bodies alone had held the life in his body, for the cold was deadly. Dogs and man were waiting for slow death when they heard the hail of Polaris.
Flat on his stomach, Polaris crawled to the edge of the break in the floor. Cramped and chilled, Scoland was barely able to stand and stagger to the wall. Polaris reached down and found that he could grasp Scoland's upstretched arms between wrists and elbows. Turning on his back, the son of the snows exerted his mighty sinews. Scoland hung almost a dead weight, but he raised him. Up, up, slowly, carefully, and then over the edge, and the captain lay gasping beside him.
On his face again, Polaris called encouragement to the huskies. Barking loudly, the dogs sprang high, leaping repeatedly at the face of the wall. One by one, the man caught them in the air as they leaped, and raised them to the upper floor.
Half carrying the exhausted Scoland, Polaris hurried along the passage to the ropes, and made him fast. Fearing that the captain was too weak to effect his own release from the tackle, Janess climbed the rope to the lip of the chasm. Again he exerted his tireless strength and hauled the other to the surface.