[CHAPTER XXXIV]
COASTING FIVE MILES IN FIVE MINUTES
In spite of their faintness and weakness from hunger and exhaustion, Phil and Serge were so stimulated by the emergency that within half an hour they had dug a cavity in the great drift sufficiently large to hold the three dogs as well as themselves. The excavation was driven straight for a few feet, and then turned to one side, where it was so enlarged that they could either lie down or sit up. Into this diminutive chamber they dragged their robes and sleeping-bags. The shivering dogs crept in and curled up at their feet. The sledge was left outside, and the opening was closed as well as might be by the slab of compacted snow that had been cut from it.
Poor little Nel-te, who was numbed and whimpering with cold and hunger, was rubbed into a glow, comforted, and petted, until at length he fell asleep, nestled between the lads, and then they found time to talk over their situation. For a while they had no thought save for the dear friend and trusty comrade who, alive or dead, was still out in that terrible storm, and, as they believed, lost to them forever.
“I don’t suppose there is the faintest hope of ever seeing him again,” said Phil. “If he went over the precipice he must have been killed, and is buried deep in the snow by this time. Even if he did not, and is still wandering somewhere in this vicinity, he must perish before morning. Oh, Serge, can’t we do anything for him? It makes me feel like a cowardly traitor to be sitting here in comfort while the dear old chap may be close at hand, and perishing for want of our help. And it is my fault, too! The fault of my inexcusable carelessness. It seems, old man, as if I should go crazy with thinking of it.”
“But you mustn’t think of it in that way, Phil,” answered Serge, soothingly. “As leader of the party it was your duty to go ahead and pick out the road, while it was ours to keep you in sight. If either of us is to blame for what has happened, I am the one. I should have looked back oftener, and made sure that he was still close behind me. Now there is nothing we can do except wait for daylight and the end of the storm. We have our parents, this child, and ourselves to think of first. Nor could we accomplish anything even if we tried. The storm has doubled in fury since we halted. A foot of snow must already have fallen, and to venture a single rod outside of this place would serve to lose us as certainly as though we went a mile. We mustn’t give up all hope, though. Mr. Coombs is very strong, and well used to exposure. Of course, if he has gone over the precipice there is little chance that we shall ever see him again; but if he escaped it, and has made a burrow for himself like this one, he will pull through all right, and we shall find him in the morning.”
“Why haven’t we dug places like this before?” asked Phil. “It is actually getting warm and comfortable in here. We might have had just such a warm cave every night that we have been in the mountains and spent so miserably.”
“Of course we might,” agreed Serge, “and we would have had but for my stupidity in not thinking of it sooner. While I never took refuge in one before, I have often heard of them, and ought to have remembered. I didn’t, though, until this storm struck us, and I knew that without shelter we must certainly perish.”
“If you hadn’t thought of a snow-burrow,” said Phil, “it is certain I never should. It is snug, though, and if only poor Jalap were with us, and we had food and a light of some kind, I wouldn’t ask for a better shelter. I can understand now how an Eskimo stone lamp, with seal-oil for fuel and a wick of moss, can give out all the heat that is needed in one of their snow-huts, and I only wish we had brought one with us.”