Frank and Randall gave way at the line. Up from the depths came the limp form of Mains.
He was quite seriously shaken up and unable as yet to stand on his feet. But the air revived him.
Frank and Randall placed Mains on the ice at one side and then drew Barney up.
The Celt came up as lively as a cricket.
“Shure, it’s hard to spile a bad egg, or to kill an Oirishman!” he cried. “It’s sorry I am fer the other man. Phwat will we do wid him, Misther Frank?”
Frank hardly knew what to say to this question. But Mains answered it himself.
“Don’t worry about me, mates! Go on up to the summit, an’ I’ll wait here till ye come back.”
“Will yez?” cried Barney.
“I will: only keep an eye out for ice-holes. I hope ye’ll sight the ship, for it’s sick to death I am of this region.”
“Same here, bejabers!” cried the Celt.