"Purty near ten mile—not quite—purty near."
The hopes of the boys sank to zero. Jack, knowing they had placed their estimate too high, still believed it greater than was the fact.
Ten miles! Barely a third of the distance between the cavern and the first place that could offer refuge.
They had used a day in advancing thus far. At that rate two more days, and possibly nights, remained ere the terrible task would be ended. They had eaten the last mouthful before starting, leaving behind some food which they might have brought, but which was not deemed necessary.
It was not the prospect of hunger that appalled them. In such a severe climate they could go a couple of days without food, and not suffer greatly, though the draught upon their strength would be trying to the last degree.
The great question was whether the task they had essayed was a possible one. Recalling the terrific exertions of the day, their exhaustion, and the repeated rests that were necessary, they might well doubt their ability, though it need not be said there was no thought of giving up so long as life and strength held out.
"Ten miles," repeated Fred Warburton; "are the Esquimau miles the same as our English, or aren't they double their length?"
"I don't know about that," said Rob; "they must get their ideas from the Danes, who have a system of measurement different from ours, but it don't matter in this instance."
"Why not?"
"When we set out, and after reaching the hills, Docak told us we were thirty miles from home; he tells us now that we are ten miles less."