A hundred yards ahead lay the open waters of Desolation Inlet, but between lay the rough ice left by the violent disruption of the seaward end of the glacier.
"We'll see what it is like before we start any steeplechasing with the sleigh," declared Guy. "I'll get Petrovitch to give a hand, for it won't be safe to approach the edge unless we are roped together."
"It looks an awfully nasty bit to tackle," remarked Leslie, as the two, connected by twenty feet of rope, stood as near as prudence dictated to the edge of the glacier. "There's something of an incline away on the right. It will mean a leap of five or six feet to gain the surface of the sea, but there seems to be a good 'takeoff.'"
"That's the place," decided his chum. "At the same time, I hardly like the idea of taking the sleigh over the edge with a cargo of sick and injured men."
"I quite agree with you," replied Leslie. "But what is the alternative?"
"Attract the Polarity's attention, and get them to send boats. We can easily let the men down by means of ropes."
"Very good; we'll mention it to Mr. Ranworth," said Leslie.
The Russian, too, readily fell in with the suggestion. His faith in the Bird of Freedom as a species of high diver was far from firm. The idea of a heavy mass of wood and machinery, with a full complement of men, being hurled bodily over the edge of the glacier, even though the vertical distance were but five or six feet, did not seem particularly inviting.
But when the matter was broached to the injured leader of the expedition, Ranworth was obdurate.
"She'll do it right enough," he declared optimistically. "It may shake us all up a bit, I'll admit, but it can't be helped."