They could hardly believe their eyes. They had left the staunch old ship fairly imbedded in the ice. Between her and Desolation Inlet a huge, seemingly impassable ice-barrier was known to exist; yet, in spite of these difficulties, she had reached the meeting-place before her swift courier.
The noise of the Bird of Freedom's aerial propellers had already announced her approach, and the Polarity's lower rigging was black with fur-clad forms, as the crew cheered the rejoining sleigh.
Leslie happened to glance at his leader's face. Ranworth showed no signs of elation; on the contrary, his features wore a strained and worried look. The mystery of the Polarity forestalling him had given rise to serious doubts.
"Stand by to make fast!" he ordered, at the same time telling Leslie to disconnect the air propeller shafting.
With an agility that had been foreign to them for several hours, Rogers and Payne clambered through the hatchway in the roof and prepared to receive the mooring lines from the ship.
"Look out!" shouted Captain Stormleigh in stentorian tones, at the same time pointing astern of the approaching sleigh.
The warning came too late. Sweeping down between a gap in the low cliffs, a terrific gust of wind struck the Bird of Freedom on her broadside.
The next instant the sleigh was lying on its side, pinned down by the resistless force of the wind, while it drifted to leeward like a bladder.
Ranworth and his two young companions were thrown violently against the side of the cabin, where for some moments they lay half stunned. Then, slowly, as the gust eased down, the Bird of Freedom righted herself.
"Start her up, Leslie," exclaimed Ranworth breathlessly, "or she'll be ashore."