to understand perfectly that their
master was trying to save them, even though they had lost their heads
and had almost drowned him.

It would not do for them all to remain on that small, treacherous lump
of ice. It might break in two at any moment with the combined weight
of dogs and driver. It was slowly drifting with the tidal current out
to the open sea, where all hope would be lost. Grenfell knew that if
he were to save his team and himself--they were always first in his
thoughts--he must act instantly.

He stood up to survey the scene. About twenty yards away there was a
good-sized pan floating about in the "sish" like a raft, such as that
on which Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer floated down the Mississippi. To
reach that raft would at any rate be to postpone death for a little
while. But it was taking too much of a risk, to try to get from the
little cake to the big one without a life line. How was he to make
such a line, and then how was he to get it across the wide space
between?

Fortunately when the Doctor cut the dogs away from the sled he had not
lost his knife: he had tied it to the back of one of the dogs. There
it was still. It was the work of a joyful moment to untie it, and he
fell to work cutting from the dogs' harness the sealskin traces that
remained and stringing those together to make two long lines. His
overalls, coat, hat and gloves were gone, but he still had his
sealskin hip-boots. He took these off, shook them free from ice and
water, and tied them on the backs of "Brin" and another dog. Then he
fastened the lines to the two animals, tying the near ends round his
wrists.

"Hist!" he shouted--the signal to go on: but the dogs refused to
budge. They were setting their own wits against their master's. Such
dogs believe they know their business. They saw no proper place to go
to. Why should they dash into the icy water for the sake of reaching
another pan not much bigger than their own? If it were land--that
would be another story. So they must have reasoned, in their doggish
fashion. They had been devoted and obedient--but there were limits
even to their faith.

Grenfell three times threw the dogs off the Pan. Each time they
struggled back upon it: and their master could not blame them.

"This is really the end!" Grenfell told himself. "We never shall get
out of this!"

Just as a boy sometimes comes up to the scratch where a man has
failed, a small dog may play the hero when a big one quits.