“There is something to our right,” he said. “Some dark object half hidden in the snow.”
“Perhaps another memento of the Peary expedition,” grumbled Chet. “I don’t want any more of ’em—I want to get back.”
“We’ll have a look,” cried Andy. He turned to his chum. “Come, brace up, Chet, and stop grumbling, that’s a good fellow.”
“All right!” exclaimed Chet, suddenly. “I suppose you’ve got as much right to grumble as I have. But my stomach is as flat as a pancake,” he continued, woefully. “I could fill up on sawdust, if I had any.”
All of the party set off in the direction of the object Barwell Dawson had discovered. The explorer was in advance, and suddenly he set up a ringing shout:
“Saved! saved!”
“What do you mean?” asked Chet, quickly.
“It is our old sledge—the one the dogs ran away with. It is stuck in a crack of the ice.”
“Are the stores on it?” asked Andy.
“Yes, everything seems to be here,” returned the explorer, joyfully.