The part they were about to pass over was exceedingly rough and broken, and Buzzby resolved to give his shipmates a shake. The pace was tremendous. The powerful dogs drew their loads after them with successive bounds, which caused a succession of crashes as the sledges sprang from lump to lump of ice, and the men’s teeth snapped in a truly savage manner.
“Ba–a–ck ye–e–r to–o–psails, will ye?” shouted Amos Parr.
But the delighted Esquimaux leader, who entered quite into the joke, had no intention whatever of backing his top-sails; he administered another crack to the team, which yelled madly, and, bounding over a wide chasm in the ice, came down with a crash which snapped the line of the leading dog and set it free. Here Buzzby caused the driver to pull up.
“Stop, ye varmint! Come to an anchor!” said he. “Is that a way to drive the poor dogs!”
“Ye might have stopped him sooner, I think,” cried the second mate in wrath.
“Hai!” shouted the band of Esquimaux, pointing to a hummock of ice a few hundred yards in advance of the spot on which they stood.
Instantly all were silent, and gazing intently ahead at a dark object that burst upwards through the ice.
“A walrus!” whispered Buzzby.
“So it is,” answered Amos Parr.
“I’ve my doobts on that point,” remarked Saunders.