CHAPTER XV
JUST IN TIME
THE spirit of desolation appeared to hover over the camp. There were no signs of life. The recently fallen snow, now frozen hard, showed no footprints. Two or three boxes, a pile of fur packages, and the remains of three dog sleighs were visible, although partly covered in snow.
On the windward side of the huts, dome-shaped after the Esquimaux fashion, the snow had drifted almost level with the tops. The entrances, just wide enough for a man to crawl through, were curtained with furs.
Guarding against the possibility of the Bird of Freedom being carried away by a gust, by the simple expedient of putting the balanced rudder over, Ranworth alighted, and, followed by Leslie and Guy, made his way to the nearest hut.
On his hands and knees Ranworth crawled through the tunnel-like entrance and thrust aside the curtain. The interior was in utter darkness, for his bulk effectively prevented any light from coming in through the opening.
Fumbling in the pocket of his fur coat, he produced an electric torch. The light revealed the fact that the hut was deserted. There were furs and implements lying in confusion. From the roof hung an oil lamp. Ranworth shook it. The reservoir was empty.
"No good here," he announced with bitter disappointment in his voice; and, without waiting for his companions to enter, he backed into the open air.
The second hut, upon examination, proved to be equally unsatisfactory. It contained only a few seals' skins, frozen as stiff as a board. The skins had been hurriedly taken from the animals, for pieces of frozen flesh still adhered to them. Nor had the seals been killed for the sake of their fur, for the skins were cut into irregular pieces.