They were soon down the hill again, and making for the spot where they had left the polar bear. Resuming the load, they struck off as best they could in the direction of the camp.
About half the distance had been covered when they found themselves quite unexpectedly on the edge of some “young” ice,—that is, ice recently frozen. It did not seem safe, and Barwell Dawson decided to turn back, in the direction of the route they had followed when leaving camp. This brought them to the lead of the day previous, and they were surprised to note that the water was much wider than before.
“The ice must be moving,” said Barwell Dawson. “I think the sooner we get back to camp the better.”
They had a small hill of ice before them, and started to skirt this. Andy was in the lead, and as he passed a rise of ice and snow, he heard a sudden roar that made him jump.
“What was that?” he cried, in alarm.
“A walrus!” answered Barwell Dawson. “And close at hand, too. Get your guns ready, boys!”
[CHAPTER XXV—CROSSING THE GREAT LEAD]
In less than a quarter of a minute more they came in sight of the walrus, stretched out on the ice close to the lead. It was a large specimen, weighing a good many hundred pounds, and as awkward as it was heavy.
At the sight of the man and boys the beast raised itself up slightly and started as if to turn back into the water. As it did this, Barwell Dawson raised the rifle, took steady aim, and sent a bullet through its head.
“That’s a fine shot!” exclaimed Andy as the walrus fell back, uttering a roar of pain. “Shall I give it another?”