However, they pointed through the snow curtain and made motions which the joy-frenzied boys in the longboat perfectly understood.
They were motioning to them to follow—to follow that slender, unstable craft to the safety of the shore. For they knew that the shore could not be far off or the natives would not have come abroad to answer their desperate cries for help.
It was in a surprisingly short space of time—the boys learned afterward that they had been near land for some time, but had been going parallel with it—that their boat, reaching shallow water, stuck upon the sea bed, refusing to go farther.
There was nothing to do but brave the icy water and wade to shore. But the boys did not mind. They did not care for anything but the fact that they saw land. And, besides, as by that time they were about as cold as they could be, they thought the icy water could make little difference.
What bothered them most was the difficulty they found in walking. Their feet, numbed by the cold and the lack of use, refused at first to support them.
Forcing themselves by sheer will power to stand, they stumbled along through the icy water, feeling as though their feet were overstuffed pin cushions.
Bobby and Fred were the only ones who had had presence of mind enough in this moment of rescue to catch hold of the rope attached to the longboat and tug the latter along toward the shore.
One of the natives, seeing what hard work this was for them, caught hold of the rope and with a couple of good hard pulls drew it up to safety on the snow and ice-encrusted ground.
Bobby tried to thank him, but found he was shivering so with the cold that he could not force the words through his chattering teeth.
The Eskimo seemed to understand his intention, however, and with a jerky nod of his fur-capped head and a grunt, indicated that the half-frozen lads were to follow him.