He left the words unfinished, but Kazan tugged harder, as if he had heard and understood. The sledge had reached the unbroken sweep of the Barren now, and MacVeigh felt the wind in his face. It was blowing from the north and west, and with it came sudden gusts filled with fine particles of snow. After a few moments he fell back to see that Little Mystery’s face was completely covered. Pelliter was crouching low on the sledge, his feet braced in the blanket straps. His wound and the uncomfortable sensation of riding backward on a swaying sledge were making him dizzy, and he wondered if what he saw creeping up out of the night was a result of this dizziness or a reality. There was no sound from behind. But a darker spot had grown within his vision, at times becoming larger, then almost disappearing. Twice he raised his rifle. Twice he lowered it again, convinced that the thing behind was only a shadowy fabric of his imagination. It was possible that their pursuers would lose trace of them in the darkness, and so he held his fire.
He was staring at the shadow when from out of it there leaped a little spurt of flame, and a bullet sang past the sledge, a yard to the right. It was a splendid shot. There was a marksman with the shadow, and Pelliter replied so quickly that the first shot had not died away before there followed the second. Five times his automatic sent its leaden messengers back into the night, and at the fifth shot there came a wild outburst of pain from one of the Eskimo dogs.
“Hurrah!” shouted Billy. “That’s one team out of business, Pelly. We can beat ’em in a running fight!”
He heard the quick metallic snap of fresh cartridges as Pelliter slipped them into the chamber of his rifle, but beyond that sound, the wind, and the straining of the huskies there was no other. A grim silence fell behind. The roar of the distant ice grew less. The earth no longer seemed to shudder under their feet at the terrific explosions of the crumbling bergs. But in place of these the wind was rising and the fine snow was thickening. Billy no longer turned to look behind. He stared ahead and as far as he could see on each side of them. At the end of half an hour the panting dogs dropped into a walk, and he walked close beside his comrade.
“They’ve given it up,” groaned Pelliter, weakly. “I’m glad of it, Mac, for I’m— I’m— dizzy.” He was lying on the sledge now, with his head bolstered up on a pile of blankets.
“You know how the wolves hunt, Pelly,” said MacVeigh— “in a moon-shape half circle, you know, that closes in on the running game from in front? Well, that’s how the Eskimos hunt, and I’m wondering if they’re trying to get ahead of us— off there, and off there.” He motioned to the north and the south.
“They can’t,” replied Pelliter, raising himself to his elbow with an effort. “Their dogs are bushed. Let me walk, Mac. I can—” He fell back with a sudden low cry. “Gawd, but I’m dizzy—”
MacVeigh halted the dogs, and while they dropped upon their bellies, panting and licking up the snow, he kneeled beside Pelliter. Darkness concealed the fear in his eyes and face. His voice was strong and cheerful.
“You’ve got to lie still, Pelly,” he warned, arranging the blankets so that the wounded man could rest comfortably. “You’ve got a pretty bad nip, and it’s best for all of us that you don’t make a move. You’re right about the Eskimos and their dogs. They’re bushed, and they’ve given the chase up as a bad job, so what’s the use of making a fool of yourself? Ride it out, Pelly. Go to sleep with Little Mystery if you can. She thinks she’s in a cradle.”
He got up and started the dogs. For a long time he was alone. Little Mystery was sleeping and Pelliter was quiet. Now and then he dropped his mittened hand on Kazan’s head, and the faithful old leader whined softly at his touch. With the others it was different. They snapped viciously, and he kept his distance. He went on for hours, halting the team now and then for a few minutes’ rest. He struck a match each time and looked at Pelliter. His comrade breathed heavily, with his eyes closed. Once, long after midnight, he opened them and stared at the flare of the match and into MacVeigh’s white face.