“When will you make your start for the North Pole?” asked Harmon.
“To-morrow,” replied Frank. “The launch will occur at nine o’clock.”
“All Readestown will be present.”
“I shall be pleased.”
“Ah!” said Harmon, with a sigh, “that recalls to my mind, Frank, that barely five years ago my brave boy Roger met his fate in that awful icy waste. May I ask of you a favor?”
“Certainly.”
“If you can find his bones there will you bring them home to his sorrow-stricken father?”
“Of course I will!”
“God bless you!”
Frank knew that Alexander Harmon had set his life upon his handsome son, Roger.