feeble light of its
sputtering blue flame touched their faces, which were graver than usual,
but Charly looked up as he came in.

"Wind's dropping," announced Wyllard curtly. "We'll start as soon as you
have made breakfast. We must try to reach the beach to-night."

Charly made no answer, though the dusky-skinned Siwash grunted, and in a
few more minutes they silently commenced their meal, which was promptly
finished. They struck the tent, and packed it with their sleeping-bags
and provisions upon the sled, and then, taking up the traces, set out
across the ice. The light had grown clearer now, and the snow was
thinning, but it still whirled about them, and lay piled in drawn-out
wreaths to lee of every hummock or ragged ridge. They floundered
knee-deep, and in the softer places the weight upon the traces grew
unpleasantly heavy. That, however, was not a thing any of them felt the
least desire to complain of, and it was indeed a matter of regret to
them that they were not harnessed to a heavier burden. There was a
snow-wrapped desolation in front of them, and they had lost a number of
small comforts and part of their provisions in making a landing. Whether
the provisions could be replaced they did not know.

The small supply of food was an excellent reason for pushing on as fast
as possible, and they stumbled and floundered forward until late in the
afternoon. The ice became more rugged and broken as they proceeded. The
snow had ceased, but the drifts which stretched across their path were
plentiful, and they were in the midst of one when it seemed to Wyllard,
who was leading, that they were sinking much deeper than usual. The snow
was over the tops of his long boots, the sled seemed very heavy, and he
could hear his comrades floundering savagely. There was a cry behind
him, and he was jerked suddenly backwards for a pace or two until he
flung himself down at full length in the snow. After that he was drawn
back no further, but the strain upon the trace became almost
insupportable, and there was still a furious scuffling behind him.

In a moment or two, however, the strain slackened, and looking round, he
saw Charly waist-deep in the snow. Charly struggled out with difficulty,
holding on by the trace, but the sled had vanished, and it was with
grave misgivings that Wyllard scrambled to his feet. They hauled with
all their might, and after a tense effort, that left them gasping,
dragged the sled back into sight. Part