The boys were wondering what the next move would be.
The answer was embodied in a pair of long, sinuous shapes, tawny-hided and slather-jawed, sleepily stretched full length in the cuddyhouse of the little craft.
The fugitives were to be trailed across the steppes by Siberian bloodhounds!
CHAPTER XVI.
LOST ON THE FROZEN STEPPES.
Yelping and tugging at leash, the hounds were given the scent at the shore point where the ship’s boat had been found. It was decided to let them run free, and to follow the fierce trailers in the biplanes.
Thus it was that Henri was compelled to take on an extra passenger in his machine, no other than the handler of the dogs, who alone could be depended upon to bring the animals to heel if the men pursued should be brought to bay. As luck would have it, the additional weight was that of a little man, who could have been wrapped twice, and some over, in Strogoff’s coat.
All three of the officers were armed to the teeth with modern repeating rifles, taken from the supply on the dispatch boats, and supremely confident of their ability to cope with the estimated small party, however desperate, which they expected to encounter.
The dogs, too, were allies that would make a goodly showing if it came to a clash in close quarters.
The young aviators had been impressed by the sergeant that their business was solely that of pilots.
“Let anything happen to you,” he said, “and my day of self-forgiving would never come. Besides, I am now accountable to Colonel Malinkoff for your safety on the ground, the same as you are responsible for mine when you get me on high. Understand?”