They scarcely went three miles before they were compelled to give up for the day. They had no supper but coffee, and the dogs were so ravenous that they were almost devouring each other.
Johnson fancied he could see the bear following them in the distance, but he made no remark to his companions. Sleep forsook the unfortunate men, and their eyes grew wild and haggard.
Tuesday morning came, and it was thirty-four hours since they had tasted a morsel of food. Yet these brave, stout-hearted men continued their march, sustained by their superhuman energy of purpose. They pushed the sledge themselves, for the dogs could no longer draw it.
At the end of two hours, they sank exhausted. Hatteras urged them to make a fresh attempt, but his entreaties and supplications were powerless; they could not do impossibilities.
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"Well, at any rate," he said, "I won't die of cold if I must of hunger." He set to work to hew out
a hut in an iceberg, aided by Johnson, and really they looked like men digging their own tomb.
It was hard labour, but at length the task was accomplished. The little house was ready, and the miserable men took up their abode in it.
In the evening, while the others lay motionless, a sort of hallucination came over Johnson, and he began raving about bears.
The Doctor roused himself from his torpor, and asked the old man what he meant, and what bear he was talking about.