He couldn’t doubt Ralph’s story—there must be something behind his incoherent narrative—something in the tale of terror that had driven him half mad. But Tim felt that the big thing was to get Ralph calm, to give his nervous system a chance to get back to normal.
For endless hours he sat with Ralph, soothing him as some shriek of the gale alarmed him. In spite of himself, Tim half expected some unknown terror to stalk out of the storm. Could he, too, be losing his senses? He pinched himself and tried to reason that everything was all right but back of all the common sense he could call upon was the fact that Ralph had encountered something far beyond the ordinary. Whatever it was, Tim intended to find out as soon as the storm let up.
Ralph finally sank into a deep sleep of nervous exhaustion and a short time later the storm abated. The wind died down rapidly and the snow ceased its stinging tattoo against the plane. In the gray light Tim could see the dim outlines of the ice walls of the valley which had shielded them from the full fury of the elements.
With Ralph asleep it was his chance to do a little exploring, and, making sure that he was ready for action, Tim slipped out of the cabin. He knew that whatever had terrorized Ralph must be close for the flyer couldn’t have wandered far in the storm and found his way back.
Tim skirted the right side of the valley and was halfway back on the left side when he came upon a good-sized opening in the ice wall of the valley. For a moment he hesitated. Without doubt it was something behind the black opening which had so upset Ralph. Determined to solve the mystery, Tim looked at his rifle again, then started resolutely forward. Half a dozen paces inside the mouth of the cave he halted. There was no sound of life—nothing to indicate that some Arctic animal might be waiting to pounce upon him.
Ahead Tim thought the darkness of the cave seemed lighter and he pushed cautiously on, testing every foot of the way for fear he might step in some fissure in the ice. The cave was growing lighter. He turned a corner and stopped involuntarily.
In spite of himself Tim exclaimed aloud at the horror and beauty of the scene that was unfolded before his eyes. Vikings—great giants of men—peered down at him from the prow of their galley, spears in hand, ready to impale him if he moved.
For a minute Tim was motionless. Then he realized that somehow, in centuries long gone, a Viking ship and crew had been caught by the relentless north and entombed by the ice. There they had been for centuries and there they might remain keeping their ceaseless vigil, until the end of time, unless Tim carried the news of his discovery back with him.
No wonder Ralph had been terrorized when he stumbled into the ice tomb. Light that filtered through crevices in the roof gave a weird, unnatural effect that would have shocked the nerves of even the steadiest man. And Ralph had already been under a terrific strain.
Tim stood reverently before the tomb of the men of old. It was evidently the forward watch looking down at him for the prow of the vessel was all that was in view. The rest of the strange craft faded into the shadows of the ice wall of the cave.