From the hand that rested on my arm she had been withdrawing the little fur mitten. Now a small palm and some cold fingers came creeping up into mine for warmth, and to bestow a reassuring pressure.
“But—but don’t you see, Daddy,—I—I—we can’t afford to have any unpleasantness there, either,” she said.
We had a long series of whist rubbers in the cabin, and entertainments in which the forecastle was frequently invited to join. In turn, we sometimes looked in on the forecastle, or, for exercise, took a hand with the sailors in clearing snow and ice from the vessel. Altogether we were a well-fed, contented little world—a warm, bright spot in a wide waste of dark and cold—and even Zar grew stout and comfortable, and more considerate of my feelings.
“I can stay heah jes’ as long as de boat stays and de perwision hold out,” was her frequent assertion. “Mistah Sturritt certney is a mighty good perwider.” And Mr. Sturritt deserved this compliment, for whatever may have been his eccentricities in the matter of tablets, as our regular commissary, he appeared to be a complete and continuous success.
As spring approached and the return of the sun drew near, preparations for scaling the ice-wall and for the journey inland were perfected. Our balloon, the Cloudcrest, was carefully overhauled, and our boat-car furnished with all the requirements of an extended voyage, should we find, after making observations, such an undertaking to be advisable. The boat was very light and had air-tight aluminum compartments, as well as many water-tight compartments for our stores. Mr. Sturritt’s condensed food lozenges, which we had all tested and voted a success, were variously distributed.
“We don’t want to carry all our pills in one box,” explained Gale, “and say, Bill, don’t you think we’d better leave one place for a few old-fashioned sandwiches? Just to start on, you know; then we can kind o’ taper off onto tablets, as it were. You’ve fed us too well through the winter to jump right into pills at the drop of the hat.”
So a place for sandwiches was left; also places for field-glasses and other instruments, as well as for furs and sleeping-bags, which were likely to be needed, we thought, in the early stages of the journey. For ballast, instead of sand, we filled bags with zinc filings, these to be used later in making hydrogen for replenishing the balloon. It is true we thought it more than likely that we should return in some new fashion, to be provided by the Antarcticans, but we believed it well to be prepared for emergencies. Our propeller for both wind and water was now thoroughly tested, the retorts for making the gas were complete and ready, and all grew impatient at last for the day when we were to make our trial ascension.
Ferratoni, I think, was more eager than the others. He seemed convinced now that not only were there human beings beyond the barrier, but that they knew of us, and waited for our coming. In just what form this had “vibrated” to him he could not quite explain, and in fact rarely attempted to do so. He was quite willing, however, to experiment with us in telepathy, or, as he termed it, in the chording of mental vibrations, through which he could often follow a train of thought in another with a success that was certainly interesting, and even startling.
It appeared in no sense to be a gift with Ferratoni, but a scientific attainment, acquired by patient and gradual steps. He claimed that the principle of it was quite as simple as that of the answering musical or electric vibrations—in fact, the same. We grew to accept this theory in time, though we made little progress in its application. Perhaps our minds were too full of other things.
To Ferratoni all the problems of the ages resolved themselves into Chorded Vibrations.