Jack stood a minute or two studying these signs as eagerly as an American Indian might scrutinize the faint trail of an enemy through the forest.
"By the great horned spoon!" he finally exclaimed; "but that does look encouraging; I shouldn't wonder if the chap did make his way along there in the night, but why he done it only he can tell. Howsumever, where has he gone?"
That was the question which Rob Carrol had asked himself more than once, and was unable to answer. The ice, for a distance of another hundred feet, looked as if it might be scaled, but, just beyond that, towered a perpendicular wall, like the side of a glass mountain. There could be no progress any farther in that direction, nor, so far as could be judged, could any one advance by turning to the right or left.
There must be numerous depressions and cavities, sufficient to hide a dozen men, and it was in one of these the couple believed they would find the dead or senseless body of their friend.
"Jack," said Rob, "take my gun."
"What for?"
"I'll push on ahead as fast as I can; I can't wait, and the weapon will only hinder me."
"I've an idee of doing something of the kind myself, so we'll leave 'em here. I don't think they'll wash away like the boat," he added, as he carefully placed them on the shelf, up which they proceeded to climb.
But Rob was in advance and maintained his place, gaining all the time upon his slower companion, who allowed him to draw away from him without protest.
"There's no need of a chap tiring himself to death," concluded Jack, as he fell back to a more moderate pace; "he's younger nor me, and it won't hurt him to get a bump or so."