Ranworth, holding an iron-shod pole in his sound hand, led the way, accompanied by Guy and three seamen. Leslie remained on board with the Russians, the rest of the members of the original expedition, and Symonds and O'Donovan.
Scrambling up the sloping mass of rock and ice, the men began their task of sawing through the two enormous ivory tusks. It was a difficult business, for the tusks were as hard as iron, while frequently they had to run as hard as they could to avoid masses of rock, which tumbled over the cliffs.
"It's blowing jolly hard up there, Guy," remarked Ranworth. "We don't feel it much down here, and it's fortunate that the Polarity came farther up the creek. She'd feel it pretty severely on her old moorings."
"It's beginning to snow, sir," said Guy, as a few flakes scuttled past.
"By Jove, yes. Hurry up, men. You've sawn enough. Clap a rope round the tusks and haul away."
Ranworth was sorry to have to give the order. It meant the risk of spoiling a portion of the ivory; but it was either that or having to abandon the tusks indefinitely.
The seamen obeyed promptly. They regarded the sawing as a hard, unnecessary task. The ivory meant nothing to them, beyond a relic of some worthless old fossil.
With a sharp crack the first tusk fell upon the frozen ground. The fracture was a clean one.
"Well done!" exclaimed Ranworth, as the men dragged the mass of ivory to where he stood. "Now for the other one."
Before the men could return to their task, the whole of the cliffs trembled violently. Disturbed by a violent gust of wind, the snow-field on the top of the surrounding hill was set in motion.