"Run your brother's party back to Desolation Inlet; put them on board the Polarity, and return for the others, sir."
Ranworth shook his head.
"Won't do," he said. "For one thing, there's valuable time lost in going over the same ground twice. For another, I doubt whether the motors will hold out without recharging the storage batteries. Of course, it is highly desirable to get my brother and his comrades back on board, but I think, with fresh provisions and attendance, they ought to exist another twenty-four hours."
"I'll remain with them if you like, sir," suggested Leslie.
"I'd rather you came with me," declared Ranworth. "Of course, it is optional with you, but although I think I could manage to run the motors, I shouldn't feel equal to the occasion in the event of a breakdown. Guy, I suppose, would want to go with you; that leaves only O'Donovan, who, I feel sure, would be quite capable of looking after our eight patients."
"Eight?" queried Leslie.
"Yes, we must leave the Russian Dmitri. The other one will have to come with us, both as guide and interpreter, in the unlikely event of none of the others speaking French. Most Russian officers do, I know, but I prefer to take no unnecessary chances." O'Donovan, upon the subject being broached, willingly fell in with his chief's plans. While the rescued men were resting and regaining strength after their meal, the sailor busied himself with clearing out one of the huts. Into this he carried the spare spirit stove, a lamp, oil, and a supply of provisions sufficient to last a week.
"Look here, Claude," said his brother. "We'll have to leave you for a little longer. There is a party of Russians stranded over there somewhere——"
"Russians!" exclaimed Claude Ranworth. "Russians in Nova Cania? What for?"
"Don't be alarmed, old man," said his brother reassuringly. "They are not rivals. It is the force of circumstances. At any rate, one would think that you'd had your fair share of Nova Cania."