“Now,” said Jennings, producing from the depths of his pack two small double pulleys and a coil of rope, “the next thing is to get over the ridges. Have to use block and tackle.”
“That sounds all right,” smiled Curlie, “but how you going to hitch a block to a smooth surface of ice?”
“Leave it to me,” laughed the miner. “Between four and five thousand of us went over this glacier in ’98. Had mighty few dogs and pulled 1400 pounds of outfit apiece too. That was tough sledding. Didn’t make a thousand feet progress in a day sometimes. Three of our crowd never did get over; froze to death right here on the glacier. But I tell you,” he exclaimed suddenly, “those were the days! Those were the men! It’s always the bravest and the best that go first in a rush like that. The cheap, the idle, the crooked ones come later to live off the gains of those who dared much in the beginning.” Having ended this little oration, he got down to business.
“You boys string the rope through those blocks. When you get that done, throw me up one of the blocks.”
“Here,” he exclaimed, “better strap these on your shoes. They’ll help you a lot.”
The things he threw at their feet were made of steel and leather. When they were strapped upon the soles of one’s shoes they transformed their plain, heavy felt-lined shoes into something resembling baseball shoes.
“Great stuff!” exclaimed Joe, driving the sharp steel barbs beneath the balls of his feet into the ice. “Couldn’t slip in these if you tried to.”
A moment later they tossed one of the blocks into which the rope had been threaded up to Jennings on the icy ridge above.
“All right,” he sang out a moment later. “Hitch the other block to the sled and heave away.”
Much to the surprise of the boys, when they pulled at the rope, the block, out of sight on the ridge above, held firm, and the sled climbed slowly up the almost perpendicular bank. A moment later, they saw Jennings drag the sled to a safe position on the icy bench.