The Pole was only one hundred miles beyond. The attainment seemed almost certain.
"Accou-ou-o-toni-ah-younguluk" (Beyond to-morrow it will be better), I urged, trying to essay a smile. "Igluctoo!" (Cheer up!)
Holding up one hand, with a reach Poleward, bending five fingers, one after the other, I tried to convey the idea that in five sleeps the "Big Nail" would be reached, and that then we would turn (pointing with my fingers) homeward.
"Noona-me-neulia-capa—ahmisua" (For home, sweethearts and food in abundance), I said.
"Noona-terronga, neuliarongita, ootah—peterongito" (Land is gone; loved ones are lost; signs of life have vanished).
"Tig-i-lay-waongacedla—nellu ikah-amisua" (Return will I, the sky and weather I do not understand. It is very cold), said Ah-we-lah.
"Attuda-emongwah-ka" (A little farther come), I pleaded. "Attudu-mikisungwah" (Only a little further).
"Sukinut-nellu" (The sun I do not understand), said E-tuk-i-shook.
This had been a daily complaint for some days—the approaching equality of the length of shadows for night and day puzzled them. The failing night dip of the sun left them without a guiding line to give direction. They were lost in a landless, spiritless world, in which the sky, the weather, the sun and all was a mystery.
I knew my companions were brave. I was certain of their fidelity. Could their mental despair be alleviated, I felt convinced they could brace themselves for another effort. I spoke kindly to them; I told them what we had accomplished, that they were good and brave, that their parents and their sweethearts would be proud of them, and that as a matter of honor we must not now fail.