“When the old North Pole starts sliding south, she slides fast,” said Farnum, sententiously.
As if spurred by the specter of approaching Winter, all dug their paddles into the stream with renewed vigor, and the two canoes swept on between the dismal, rocky banks hour after hour.
That night there was real twilight, and a sharpness in the air to which the party was not accustomed. Art pointed skyward, as he and the boys worked at building the campfire. Their gaze followed whither he indicated.
“The moon,” he said. “Sure sign the season’s getting late. That’s the first time you could see it real good.”
“How late in the Summer is it, anyway?” asked Frank. “I, for one, have kept no track of time. And I don’t see how anybody else could with the continuous daylight we have had.”
“Dad religiously checks off the days every twenty-four hours,” said Jack. “I’ve seen him do it.”
Over the evening meal, Mr. Hampton explained that from Long Tom, the Indian they had taken captive on the island in the lake, he had gotten directions as to where the latter believed Thorwaldsson and his men to be. The explorer, according to Long Tom, was making his way along the Coppermine, in an endeavor to get out to the south before caught by the Winter. He had started late, and in all likelihood, Mr. Hampton’s party was still to the south of Thorwaldsson.
“From now on, however,” said Mr. Hampton, “we must keep our eyes open as we proceed for any signs along the way which would indicate Thorwaldsson already had passed, going south. Not that I consider that to be likely, however,” he added. “On the contrary, if Long Tom wasn’t lying, and I believe he was telling the truth, Thorwaldsson should be close at hand, and we ought soon to encounter him.”
Camp again was uneventful, but when the boys awoke in the morning they found a thick wet fog over all. Their blankets were wet with it, the rocks were wet, and the river which had lain spread out before them under the moonlight when they turned in for the night, now could not be seen. Only a gray wall of fog greeted them, blurring the outlines even of Mr. Hampton, Farnum and Art, who stood in anxious conversation.
When the boys joined their elders, they found the question up for discussion was the question of whether to proceed or remain where they were until the fog lifted.