The men were physical giants—their crude leather jackets still buttoned close around them to keep out the Arctic cold. Yellow hair peeped from beneath helmets that fitted close to their heads. Long spears were clutched in readiness for a foe that never came and eyes stared over Tim and into eternity.
Tim spent an hour studying his discovery and mentally cataloging all the details. What stories he would have when they got back to civilization. In addition to proving that there was no continent in the Arctic, they had found a tomb of the Vikings.
He hastily ran back for his camera and exhausted the remainder of his supply of plates taking time exposures in the tomb of the north.
Tim knew that if they could safely complete their flight, they would have some of the greatest news pictures in years.
When he finally returned to the plane he resolved to say nothing about his discovery to Ralph when his chum awoke, rested and with his nerves back to normal, Tim was happy to see that his pilot recalled the whole incident as a bad dream. Later he would tell him all about it.
While Ralph took off the hood of the heater and inspected the motor, Tim busied himself working out their location.
“Not as bad as it might be, Ralph,” he called. “I’ve got it doped out we’re on an island just off the west coast of Spitzbergen. King’s bay is about 100 miles, air line, and we’ve got enough gas to make it.”
“Plenty of gas, if we ever get off this excuse for a landing field,” grunted Ralph. He scrambled into the cabin, threw the switches, and Tim swung the propeller. Again and again he leaned on the shiny stick and finally the motor caught with a sputter, then a roar that shrouded the plane in a cloud of snow.
Tim hastily chopped away the lashings and helped Ralph swing the plane around so it headed toward the coast. Down the center of the valley the wind had swept the snow clean and hard, ideal for a takeoff if there was room enough to get the plane into the air before it crashed into the ice on the shore.
Ralph gave the motor a final test and motioned for Tim to climb in. The song of the motor deepened, reached a crescendo, and they started slowly ahead, gathering speed rapidly, and, just when it seemed that they would catapult into the ice, they shot into the air. It was an old trick and Ralph had worked it to perfection.