Suddenly he uttered a bitter cry of anguish and despair.
"Mate, mate!" he shouted. "Oh, come, come! There has been a fearful accident, and Conal is killed."
As if hoping against hope, both he and the mate counted the number on the small ice plateau over and over again.
There had been six in all.
Now there were but five!
And these seemed now to be signalling for assistance.
There was but one thing to be done, however hopeless it might seem, and that was to get up and despatch a party to the rescue as soon as day should once more break.
Had they been ready they should have started at once. But Frank had a good head on his shoulders for one so young, and in a matter of life and death like this he was right in considering well what had best be done.
Of course he consulted with the mate, and he immediately suggested a rope of many, many fathoms in length.
"Doubtless," he said, "poor Conal is dead, or if stunned he will speedily freeze to death, but we would be all unwilling to sail away and leave the poor bruised body in the terrible crevasse."