One instant it seemed they would graze the rocks to the left of them, the next the bank of trees to the right. And then—
“What was that?” Mark shouted suddenly.
As the pontoons of the plane touched the surface of the lake, there had come a strange ripping sound.
They had not long to wait for the answer. Hardly had the airplane taxied to a spot twenty feet from a shelving bank, when the plane began settling on one side.
“Tough luck!” exclaimed the pilot. “A little ice formed on the lake. Must have punctured a pontoon. No real danger, I guess. Those fellows should be here any—”
“Yes! Yes! There they are now!” Mary exclaimed, pointing to a spot where two men were putting off in a small boat.
The boat, she saw at once, was one used on their own small lake not so many days before. In a narrow cove she sighted the blue and gray airplane.
“Well!” laughed their pilot. “Here we are.”
“Yes,” the girl thought soberly. “Here we are. Two hundred miles from anywhere in a frozen wilderness. Two disabled airplanes. Food for a month. One injured boy. Fine outlook.”
The instant her eyes fell upon the men in the boat she experienced one more shock. Peter Loome, the man with a hard face, who hated all Eskimos, was there. She barely suppressed a shudder. Just why she feared and all but hated this man she was not able at that moment to say.