“Did you feel anything under you?” he asked at length in a jarring voice.
“I didn’t,” said Charly simply. “It was only the trace saved me from dropping through altogether, but if I’d gone a little further I’d have been in the water. Kind of snow bridge over a crevice. We broke it up, and the sled fell through.”
Wyllard turned and flung the tent, their sleeping-bags, and the few packages which had not fallen out of the sled, after which he hastily opened one or two of them. His companions looked at them with apprehension in their eyes until he spoke again.
“The provisions may last a week or so, if we cut down rations,” he said.
He could not remember afterwards whether anybody suggested it, and he believed that the same idea occurred to all of them at once, but in another moment or two they set about undoing the traces from the sled, and making them secure about their bodies. For half an hour they made perilous attempt after attempt to recover the lost provisions, and failed. The snow broke through continuously beneath the foremost man, but it did not break away altogether, and they could not tell what lay beneath it when they had drawn him out of the hole. When it became evident that the attempt was useless, sitting on the sled, they held a brief council.
“I guess we don’t want to go back,” said Charly. “It’s quite likely we’ve crossed a good many of these crevices, and the snow’s getting soft. Besides, Dampier will have hauled off and headed for the inlet by now.”
He spoke quietly, though his face was grave. Pausing a moment, he waved his hand. “It seems to me,” he added, “we have got to fetch the inlet while the provisions last.”
“Exactly,” agreed Wyllard. “Since the chart shows a river between us and it, the sooner we start the better. If the thaw holds, the stream will break up the ice on it.”
The Indian, who made no suggestion, grunted what appeared to be concurrence, and they silently set to work to reload the sled. That done, they took up the traces and floundered on again into the gathering dimness and a thin haze of driving snow. Darkness had fallen when they made camp again, and sat, worn-out and aching in every bone, about the sputtering lamp inside the little straining tent. The meal they made was a very frugal one, and they lay down in the darkness after it, for half their store of oil had been left behind in the crevice. They spoke seldom, for the second disaster had almost crushed the courage out of them, and it was clear to all that it would be only by a strenuous effort that they could reach the inlet before their provisions quite ran out. They slept, however, and rising in a stinging frost next morning set out again on the weary march, but it was slow traveling, and at noon they left the tent and poles behind.
“In another few days,” said Wyllard, “we’ll leave the sled.”