Anders was a good deal surprised as well as puzzled by the questions put by his new friend. His extremely commonplace mind had never been exercised by such ideas. “I never asked him about that,” he said, “and he never told me. Perhaps he will tell you if you ask him.”
The interpreter turned on his side with a sigh and went to sleep. The giant lay on his back gazing long and steadily with a wistful look at the unbroken vault of sky, whose vast profundity seemed to thrust him mercilessly back. As he gazed, a little cloud, light as a puff of eider-down, and golden as the sun from which its lustre came, floated into the range of his vision. He smiled, for the thought that light may suddenly arise when all around seems blank gave his inquiring spirit rest, and he soon joined the slumbering band who lay upon the ice around him.
According to Chingatok’s prophecy, on the third day the fagged and weary discoverers surmounted their first difficulty, and came upon comparatively smooth ice, the surface of which resembled hard-trodden snow, and was sufficiently free from obstructing lumps to admit of rapid sledge travelling. It was late when they reached it, but as they could now all sit on the sledges and leave the hard work to the dogs, the leader resolved to continue the advance without resting.
“It’s time enough to stop when we’re stopped,” he remarked to Leo, while making preparations to start. “We will sleep at the first obstruction we meet with, if it’s a sufficiently troublesome one. See that the things are well lashed on all the sledges, Alf. Remember that I hold you responsible for lost articles.”
“And what am I responsible for, father?” asked Benjy with a pert look.
“For keeping out of mischief, Ben. That’s the most I can expect of you.”
“You are only a sort of negative blessing to us, you see, Benjy,” said Alf, as he stooped to tighten a rope. “It’s not so much what you do, as what you don’t do, that rejoices us.”
“I’m glad of that,” retorted the boy, arranging himself comfortably on his father’s sledge, “because I won’t do anything at all for some hours to come, which ought to fill you all with perfect felicity. Awake me, Leo, if we chance to upset.”
“Now then, all ready?” cried the Captain. “Off you go, then—clap on all sail!”
Crack went the mighty whips, howl went the dogs, and the sledges were soon skimming over the sea at the rate of ten miles an hour. Of course they did not keep that pace up very long. It became necessary to rest at times, also, to give the dogs a little food. When this latter process had been completed, the teams became so lively that they tried to runaway.