Never mind, it was the best of fun. So, too, was hockey. Here, although the dogs took good care not to mingle in a close tussle, they hung round on the outskirts, and pinched the ball and retrieved it.
Anxiety and melancholy began to take possession of the hearts of the expedition, after the time had long gone past wherein Curtis and Ingomar ought to have returned.
The weather was getting very inclement, too. Short, wild storms were becoming more and more frequent, and wind blowing at the rate of ninety miles an hour, breaking the falling snow into suffocating ice-dust.
On such days, hardly even the dogs dared to show face outside. To go beyond the threshold of the igloo gave one a touch of asthma. For the summer was waning, and, as usual, winding up with short snaps of storm and tempest.
The sun was getting very near to the horizon now, at midnight, and soon would set.
Why came they not? Would they never return?
Hoping against hope, Captain X. proposed giving the men some solid work to do.
Tools of excavation or digging had been brought out, for Curtis meant to try to make an opening in some hillside for the purpose of studying geology.
“Why not make use of these now, while we all await in such suspense? Men,” he added, “it’ll keep the fingers of us from gettin’ frozen, and better a blister than a frost-bite.”
Dr. Wright readily gave his consent.