“I have a hunch we’re not going to lose out on the man hunt.”
Sandy had to be satisfied with that until he got Dick alone and pumped him for details.
That night the boys slept the sleep of utter weariness, while the storm beat and buffeted futilely at the dome of their warm igloo.
CHAPTER VIII
SIPSA VANISHES
It was two days before the blizzard died down and the little snowbound company were permitted to leave their Eskimo houses for any length of time. Dick and Sandy found almost a new world awaiting them when they burrowed like two badgers out of their snug retreat into the polar sunlight.
“Where are the sledges and dogs?” Sandy wanted to know.
“Can’t you see everything has been buried?” Dick retorted. “We’ve got some tall snow shoveling to do before we can get at our supplies.”
Constable Sloan soon found the dogs. Each of the faithful creatures was deep in a nest of snow, with only a tiny hole to breathe through. The beasts were gaunt with hunger, and whined and slavered at the mouth while the policeman began digging out the supplies.
It took several hours of hard work to dig out the camp, and when everything was in good shape, Corporal McCarthy drew the boys aside:
“Constable Sloan and myself are going back on the glacier with ten days’ supplies to see if we can’t pick up Mistak’s trail again. We’ll leave you with Sipsa to take care of the camp and do some hunting. Sipsa will show you how to kill and cut up seals and walruses, which we’ll need for dog meat if we don’t have to eat them ourselves before we finish our job up here. Don’t overlook the musk-oxen. We saw signs of them on the island and they’re about the best eating a white man can find up here.”