But the matter of eating was past the joking stage now. The dogs fell on the ice and could not get up again. It was a mercy to put them out of their misery, and this is what Phineas Roebach and Andy did—shooting each faithful creature through the head and leaving the carcasses for the wolves which had, all this time, followed the little party at a respectful distance.
"If wolf meat was fit to eat we'd certainly live on the fat of the land," quoth the oil man.
"I wouldn't mind meeting a bear—savage as that other fellow was," said Andy Sudds.
And before they were through with this adventure they saw all the bear meat—and that very much alive—that the party ever wished to behold.
First, however, came Mark's invention. They dragged the empty sleds—after the dogs were killed—for several miles and then went into camp beside the stream, while the sun rose and warmed them most uncomfortably.
Roebach suggested abandoning the sleds as they could carry the little stock of movables they now owned. But Andy was opposed to this as he feared the professor might break down, in which event they would have to drag him.
"We must keep one of the sleds, at least," the old hunter insisted.
"I have a scheme," quoth Mark, suddenly. "Why not use the sleds—both of them?"
"True enough—why not?" scoffed Jack. "Let's keep them to slide down hill on. Do you realize that the professor says we are still three hundred miles from Nigatuk and the mouth of the Coleville?"
"That is the reason I suggest traveling by sled instead of dragging them behind us," said Mark, unruffled. "I've got an idea."