Immediately upon approaching the foot of the glacier Dick and Sandy could see what a dangerous struggle was to be theirs in attempting to scale the mountain of ice. For hundreds of years the ice had frozen there, layer upon layer, filled with great holes and cracks, its own great weight forcing it to move toward sea level.
“I don’t see how we’re ever going to climb it,” Sandy gasped.
“Well, I don’t either,” admitted Dick, “but Mistak must have got to the top, and anything he can do, the King’s policemen can do.”
“Heap big mountain ice,” commented Toma. “Ketchum sore head if slide down to bottom.”
“You’re right,” Dick could not help but laugh at Toma’s remark in spite of the seriousness of the task ahead of them.
“Well, boys,” Constable Sloan came forward, interrupting them, “we’ll have to use man power now. Here’s a good chance for you fellows to test your biceps. There are six of us, so that leaves three to a sled. Sipsa, Toma and myself will take the first sledge—that leaves you boys and the Corporal for the second. It won’t take much head work, but lots of backbone. Let’s go!”
Dick and Sandy watched, with interest, the starting of the first sledge up the steep incline, men and dogs straining with every ounce of strength in them. When at last they disappeared around a huge knob of ice and snow, they sent a lusty cheer after them, and set to work themselves to push their sledge up.
It took a half hour of pushing and hauling before they reached a point that was level enough for them to rest comfortably.
“Much more of this and I’ll turn to water,” panted Sandy, throwing back his parka and revealing the perspiration standing out in huge drops that froze almost as soon as they came in contact with the air.
“Better keep that parka over your head,” cautioned Corporal McCarthy. “A little too much of this air when you’re overheated will frost your lungs, and you know what that means.”