"And what do you propose doing?" I inquired.
"We must get to those hills, dead or alive," he replied; "and we must be about it directly."
"Do you intend walking?"
"Yes, if we can't patch up the machine."
"We are a helpless couple, as it is," I remarked, rising, for the sand was burning me.
"It's a long way from home," observed Torrence with a sickly smile.
I grinned.
"Yes, and how magnificently we were talking about sailing through the South Pole; treating the earth as if it were a mere ball to be jumped about in at our pleasure. I feel as if I had suddenly fallen from the powers of a god to those of a paralyzed caterpillar!"
But Torrence was up.
"I am dying of thirst," he said; "we must get to the hills or perish in the sand. Do you know we shall be raving maniacs if we remain in this temperature without water? Let us get to work and see what we can do. I have brought all kinds of tools and materials, perhaps we can get her afloat again."