“We’ve got to stop it before it reaches the edge of that shelf!” cried Corporal McCarthy. “If it ever goes over the edge, Sandy is gone!”
But they had started a miniature avalanche of ice and snow by their struggles and this rolling along underfoot made firm footing impossible to find.
One last heave they gave backward on the remaining rope as the sledge struck the edge of the ice shelf. They heard a heavy crash, then silence.
Dick looked up from where he clung to the steep incline, the sledge rope clutched in his hands. Stunned by fear for what had happened to Sandy, who had disappeared, he watched Corporal McCarthy pick his way cautiously down to the sledge. The rear end of the runners had stuck in a fissure, bringing the sledge to a stop not more than a foot from the edge of the shelf below which they knew not how far the drop was.
As if it were all a bad dream, Dick watched the policeman look over the sledge, under it, and all about, then lie down on his stomach and peer over the shelf. The significance of that move and what it might mean in regard to Sandy’s fate, brought Dick to his feet, and in two agile leaps he was at the policeman’s side.
The drop under the shelf was only about twenty feet, provided an object falling from it caught on a second projection of ice and snow. Beyond that there was a frightful depth to a small plateau.
“Sandy! Sandy!” Dick called at the top of his voice.
Corporal McCarthy’s somber expression showed that he thought there was little use in shouting, but he presently uttered an exclamation of astonishment.
The snow on the lower shelf directly below the point where the sledge had lodged, had moved!
“Look!” cried Dick, in a glad shout.