“A difference of but three seconds,” said the former. “We will split the difference when I take the observation,” and this was done.
The sextant was raised, and the old scientist looked through it with great care. His artificial horizon had been arranged but a short distance away.
“Time!” roared Barwell Dawson, and the professor set the thumbscrew of his instrument. Then, through the magnifying glass, he read the figures and set to work with pen and pencil, making his computations, with his Nautical Almanac before him. All awaited breathlessly what he might have to say. Suddenly the aged man threw down the paper and pencil and threw his arms into the air.
“We are at the 90th degree of north latitude!” he cried. “We have reached the North Pole!”
“Hurrah!” yelled Andy and Chet, simultaneously, and Barwell Dawson joined in the cheer.
“You are certain of that?” asked the explorer. “We must make no mistake.”
“Read the observation for yourself,” answered the old scientist.
“It is true,” said Barwell Dawson, when he had verified the figures. “We are really and truly at the North Pole. Now, then, to raise the flag!”
The others understood. All through the bitter journey they had carried an American flag and a fair-sized flagpole. Once the flag had become torn but they had mended it with care.
In a twinkling the pole was brought forth, and planted in the ice and snow. Then the flag was raised, and it floated proudly in the breeze.