Eventually, by means of a tackle, the lump of platinum was taken on board and lashed down to the floor immediately in front of the engine-bed.
"I think we can dispense with a couple of hundredweight of those tinned provisions, Leslie," said Ranworth. "We won't need them, and they'll come in handy should we at some future time fit out another Nova Cania expedition. Get the men to stow them in one of the huts, only look sharp. The glass is falling, and I don't like the look of the sky. We are in for another blizzard, unless I'm much mistaken, so the sooner we get on board the Polarity the better."
At length the Bird of Freedom set out on her return, and, as the lads devoutly hoped, the final journey. By this time the wind had backed, and was now dead astern. With this circumstance in their favour, a speedy run was anticipated.
"We are in sight of the mammoth, sir," reported Guy, for Ranworth was resting in his bunk. "Do you wish us to stop?"
"How's the glass?" asked Ranworth.
"Still falling, sir."
"And with a northerly wind. It doesn't mean much."
Guy did not reply, but he recalled his chief's misgivings an hour previously.
"We'll stop," decided Ranworth. "I'll go with the men. Tell them to bring axes and saws, and some canvas and rope."
The Bird of Freedom was brought to a standstill under the lee of a projecting part of the cliff, but at a sufficient distance to be out of danger of any landslide that might occur.