“I’m afraid your game will have to wait. If you went for it now, you’d surely get lost. It is snowing furiously.”
What the professor said about the storm was true. The snow was accompanied by a high wind, which whistled loudly around the cabin. All of the party were glad enough to gather in front of the big open fireplace, for that was the one spot that was thoroughly warm.
As they sat around, Chet told in detail his story of the moose, and then the boys listened while Barwell Dawson and Professor Jeffer related some things that had happened to them when they had met in the far north.
“I should like exceedingly to take another trip to the polar regions,” said the professor. “The other trip was too short for me. I did not gain half the knowledge I desired.”
“I am going up there again,” answered Barwell Dawson, quietly.
“Ah, indeed! When?”
“As soon as my ship is ready for me.”
“Your ship? Are you equipping a ship?” demanded Professor Jeffer, while the boys listened in astonishment.
“I am. I have not said much about it as yet, for I did not want to excite public comment. But I am fitting out a ship for polar exploration.” And Barwell Dawson smiled quietly, as if fitting out such an expedition were an everyday occurrence.
“Why, really, you—you astonish me!” cried the professor. “This is most extraordinary, sir. Are you, may I ask, fitting out this ship yourself?”