Claude gripped his brother's arm.
"Look here," he whispered eagerly. "In that hut where you found us is a lump of metal wrapped up in a sealskin. It doesn't look very big, but it's worth a fortune—it's pure platinum. Over yonder the place swarms with it."
"Hardly worth the risk," declared the matter-of-fact John Ranworth. "But we must see about getting a move on. You won't hurt for another few hours. We ought not to be very long. I'll just ask Petrovitch a few questions. He's quite fit to give lucid information now."
"North-north-east, I believe, monsieur," said the Russian, in reply to Ranworth's question as to the approximate position of his stranded comrades. "I think I could follow our course from the place where you found us, but from this place—no."
"I don't like retracing our course," declared Ranworth, "but I suppose we must do it, to avoid a wild-goose chase. Of course, you know that your tracks must be wiped out by the blizzard?"
"There are peculiar hummocks which I can recognise," said the Russian.
Suddenly an inspiration flashed across Ranworth's mind.
"I say, Claude," he exclaimed. "Did you happen to notice a cloud of black smoke away to the nor'-nor'-east about three weeks ago?"
"Yes," replied his brother. "But you weren't anywhere in the vicinity of Nova Cania at that time?"
"No," replied John Ranworth. "But what was it like? In what direction did it appear?"