“Perhaps we’ll meet him!” cried Andy.
“It is not likely with so many miles of snow and ice between us,” answered Barwell Dawson.
The news concerning Dr. Cook made the explorer more anxious than ever to be on the way, and one bright Wednesday afternoon it was announced that the expedition would start northward on the following morning. The party was to consist of Mr. Dawson, the professor, Dr. Slade, Mr. Camdal, and the two boys, and eight Esquimaux. The natives were to drive eight of their best sledges drawn by ninety-six dogs. They were to travel northward to Grant Land, and then make a straight dash for the Pole. Captain Williamson and his men were to remain as near them along the coast as the weather would permit, awaiting their return.
“And I hope with all my heart that you all come back safe and sound,” said the commander of the Ice King.
“Wish you were going along, Captain,” said Andy.
“So do I, lad; but my place is by the ship. You’ll want the Ice King when you get back.”
At last came the moment for leaving. All the sledges were packed, and the dogs harnessed and ready for action. At the side of the leading team stood Estankawak, long whip in hand.
“All ready!” shouted Barwell Dawson, after a general handshaking.
“Good luck to you!” cried Captain Williamson. “Be sure and bring that North Pole back with you!”
“Sure—on our shoulders!” answered Andy, gleefully.