Happily my eyes were now entirely well, and my hands, though chapped and roughened from the frost-bites, had suffered no permanent injury. So I started out with grim resolution on the sixth morning, when the dawn was only a red streak on the horizon and the stars still lit my way. Before the sun rose I was standing once more outside those two sentinel peaks.
To this point I knew the sleigh had come. But whether it had continued straight down the valley or turned to the right along that same ridge which I had fruitlessly explored before, it was impossible to determine.
I tried to put myself in the position of a man travelling toward the château. Which road would I take? How and where would it occur to me to seek an entrance into the heart of those formidable hills?
The more I puzzled and pondered over the difficulty the harder it was to solve.
As I stood, rather weary, balancing myself upon my snow-shoes, I heard a wolf's howl quite near to me. Raising my head, I saw no wolf, but an Eskimo dog—the very dog I had encountered in New York, Jacqueline's dog!
CHAPTER XII
UNDER THE MOUNTAINS
The dog was standing on a rock at the base of the hill immediately before me—and calling.
I almost thought that it was calling me.