Leaving the bear where it was, the three started to climb the icy hill on their left. The snow on the side aided them, and they reached the summit with little difficulty.
“Phew! here is where one feels the wind!” cried Andy, as he drew his coat closer.
“Cuts like a knife, doesn’t it?” answered Chet. “Wonder what it will be up at the Pole.”
“Colder than this—you may be sure of that,” answered Barwell Dawson.
All gazed around them. To the east and west, as well as the south, lay the long stretches of snow and ice. Northward were the same ice and snow, with numerous leads of clear, bluish water.
“There is our camp,” said the explorer, pointing to some dark objects in the distance.
“How far is it?” asked Chet.
“I can’t say exactly. Probably two miles. Distances are very deceiving in this atmosphere.”
“There is that lead of water we must have followed yesterday,” said Andy, pointing.
“Yes,” answered Barwell Dawson. “We won’t go back that way, though—we’ll try the route over yonder.”