Leslie thought otherwise. He could see the former track of the runners fading into the distance. Between them and the Polarity were obstacles in the shape of several small fissures and long ridges of ice that could not be overcome by manual labour.
Just then Hawke opened his eyes, wearily, like a man aroused from a deep slumber.
"What's up?" he asked vacantly.
Leslie came straight to the point.
"You've been badly knocked about by the bear. We've settled him all right. We want to take you back to the ship, but we can't restart the engine."
With a considerable effort Hawke turned his head and looked at the controls by the seat behind him.
"I don't wonder," he replied. "The ignition's switched off. Press that catch down and try again."
He attempted to rise, but being aware for the first time that his left arm was useless, he subsided with a groan.
"Knocked clean out," he murmured, loud enough for Leslie to overhear. "And Ranworth wants the big sleigh to start as soon as possible. I've kippered the whole scheme by letting that bear maul me. What a fool I was not to keep the rifle loaded."
At the next attempt the motor fired easily. Taking his seat, Leslie cautiously manipulated the controls. Away glided the sleigh, but at a broad angle to the previous tracks.