The lights were lit after that, and kept burning brightly all through the long winter—one large lamp on the deck of the Ice King, and another equally large in front of the hut on shore. Smaller lamps were likewise kept burning constantly indoors.
Hunting continued from week to week, and the boys aided in the shooting of more polar bears, and also in bringing down several large musk oxen. The musk oxen, with heads resembling big buffalo bulls, were a source of great wonder to the lads.
“This is hunting, and no mistake,” said Andy. “I wonder what the fellows in Maine would say to these, if they could see them.”
“Beats moose hunting, doesn’t it, Andy?”
“Rather. By the way, Chet, I’d like to know how my Uncle Si is making out.”
“He ought to be up here. Phew! wouldn’t he complain of the cold! It was 38° below zero this morning!”
“I know it, and Professor Jeffer says it will be colder than that before long.”
They had to guard carefully against the cold, for it would have been an easy matter to have an ear or one’s nose frostbitten. As it was, one of the sailors had a big toe “nipped” by the frost, and suffered greatly because of it. The boys found it unwise even to touch anything metallic with a bare hand, for fear the member would get “burnt” or cling fast.
It was late in November that something happened which disturbed the party not a little. Late in the day, while Andy and Chet were dozing in their bunks, they not having anything to do, there came a curious grinding sound from the sides of the Ice King.
“What is that?” asked Andy, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.