Half a dozen dogs, such as they had often heard Jack and Hugo describe as the faithful servants of the Esquimaux, were gamboling in the snow under the partial shelter of an overhanging ledge of ice.
They were secured together by long strings made of dried skin of some animal, the end of which was secured around a huge boulder of ice.
As they were gazing, curious and interested, two forms pushed aside a bank of snow, and, from a cave-like aperture, the two sailors came into view.
“Jack!—Hugo!” cried the boys, delightedly.
“Yes, lads; and snug and safe. We found the snow a warm bed for the night.”
Will explained how they had endeavored to signal them; then he pointed to the dogs.
Jack looked sad.
“It’s a sorrowful story, lad. The man who drove them and the sled went down in a fissure in the ice.”
“And you couldn’t save him?”
“No. When we reached the place the ice had closed and the dogs had broken loose.”