"They won't have it long," said his brother as he threw in the clutch and rapidly the Golden Eagle sped forward, crashing faster and faster over the frozen surface as her young driver worked the engine up to full speed.
In a few seconds more they felt the aeroplane begin to lift and soar into the night air.
They were exploding skyward to safety, while far below them their baffled captors were firing aimlessly in the hope of a random shot shattering some vital part of the aeroplane.
But no such thing happened and as the boys sped toward the west, bound for Camp Hazzard, they sent out a wireless message. Again and again they tried but without success. They could not raise an answer.
"Of course we can't raise them. They are on the march!" shouted Frank suddenly.
"On the motor-sledge bound for the Viking ship," cried Billy, "they should be there to-morrow."
"Say, fellows, we have done it now," cried Frank, with a sudden twinge.
"What's the matter?" inquired the professor.
"Why, they will arrive there to find the others in possession and no sign of us. They'll think we ran away without even putting up a fight."
"We'll have to try to pick them up in the daylight," was the reply; "we know about the route along which they'll drive and from this altitude we can't miss them if they are anywhere within miles of us."