Leslie, O'Donovan, and the two Russians were selected for this mission, while Guy, Johnson, and Wilson were to remain with the injured survivors of the Bird of Freedom.
The provisions were divided between the two parties in proportion to their numbers, those of Leslie's men being placed on the rough sleigh.
"How about this gun?" asked Wilson, indicating a rifle which had been brought up from the buried sleigh just before the final disaster.
"Keep it," replied O'Donovan. "We won't need it. You might knock over a seal or two if you're lucky."
"Sorry I'm not coming with you, old man," said Guy, as the two chums prepared to take leave of each other.
"I don't suppose you'll miss much," replied Leslie with forced cheerfulness.
"No, it's you I'm thinking about. I shouldn't mind in the slightest if I were with you, but tramping through that blizzard is rotten work."
O'Donovan gave the signal. The Russians took up the drag-rope of the sleigh. With a cheery wave of the hand Leslie fell in with the rest of the party, and the driving snow hid him from his chum's sight.
None of the party was provided with snow-shoes or skis. At every step the men sank almost to their knees in snow. On and on they stumbled. Not a word was spoken. Instinctively they realised that every ounce of strength they possessed must be carefully husbanded if they hoped to survive the strain of those few miles.
Fortunately there was no chance of losing their way. The route was well defined by towering cliffs on either side, from which masses of snow and ice were continually falling.