As they drew further south the weather moderated, for which they were thankful. But they had much open water to cross, and this consumed a good deal of time.
“I wouldn’t mind it, if only we could find something to eat,” said Chet. He suffered more from hunger than did any of the others, for he had always been a hearty eater.
The next morning there was great excitement among the natives. A musk-ox had been seen, and all were eager for the hunt.
“We must get that beast by all means,” said Andy. “Think what it means—ox-roast galore!”
The trail of the game was readily followed, and about seven o’clock in the evening the hunters came upon a herd of six musk oxen, resting in the shelter of a small hill. They surrounded the game, and succeeded in bringing down three of them. The others were pursued, but managed to get away.
“This ends short rations,” was Chet’s comment, and his eyes brightened wonderfully. What he said was true, and that evening the explorers enjoyed a better meal than they had had for many weeks. The Esquimaux and dogs came in for their full share, and the big meal put even Estankawak in good humor, and he thought no more of deserting them.
As they came down into the heart of Ellesmere Land they picked up Mr. Camdal and his party. They shot other game, and so had all the food they could eat, and more. The hunting just suited Barwell Dawson, for, as he told the boys, he was more of a hunter than he was an explorer.
“How soon do you suppose we’ll reach the Ice King?” asked Andy, one day.
“If we have luck, we ought to sight the vessel in four or five days.”
“Will you sail for home at once?”