“We’ll get there—if we keep our health, and the provisions last,” said the explorer, confidently.
Once again they turned northward, into that vast region of ice, and snow, and solitude. It was certainly a gigantic undertaking. Would they succeed, or would all their struggles go for naught?
[CHAPTER XXVI—ON A FLOATING MASS OF ICE]
“One hundred and thirty miles more, Andy!”
“Who said so?”
“Professor Jeffer. He just took an observation,” answered Chet, as he crawled into the igloo and slapped his mittened hands to get them warm.
Andy shook his head slowly. “Chet, it doesn’t look as if we’d make it, does it?”
“Barwell Dawson says we are going to make it, or die in the attempt.”
“Well, I’m just as eager, almost, as he is. But eagerness isn’t going to make these leads close up, and isn’t going to give us extra food and drink.”
“Getting sick of pemmican and walrus meat?”