“It’s no use,” he had said, with a sigh. “We can’t do anything in this wind. Let us keep our strength until it subsides.”
They had spent the day in mending the sledge, which was in danger of going to pieces, and in fixing up their foot coverings, which were woefully ragged.
It was still blowing when they started again on their journey. But it was not nearly so bad as before, and the snow had ceased to come down. The sun, however, was still under the clouds, and the sky looked gray and sullen.
“I don’t know that I’d care to live here the year round,” said Andy, with an attempt at humor. “It would be too hard to dig the potatoes.”
“Or go swimming,” answered Chet. “Every time a fellow wanted a bath, he’d have to chop a hole in the ice.”
“Or tumble in a lead.”
“But, just the same, if we do reach the Pole, what a story we’ll have to tell when we get back!”
“We’ll not be the first at the Pole.”
“We’ll be the first boys at the Pole.”
“Right you are.”