For several hours the captives rode, becoming thoroughly chilled, for a cold, cutting wind sprang up and blew in their faces.
"We most there," said the woman at length.
"I'm glad to hear it," remarked Andy. "I will be glad to get back to a civilized place, even if it is an airship."
Suddenly Dirola turned her head and glanced behind. As she did so she uttered an exclamation and called shrilly to the dogs, at the same time snapping her long whip viciously.
"What's the matter?" asked Andy.
"They come after us."
Looking back, Andy was startled to see, about a mile in the rear, more than a score of sleds, laden with fur-robed Esquimaux, in full pursuit.
"Now we're in for it!" he cried. "It will be a race to see who gets to the ship first! Get out your revolvers! I'm not going to be captured again!"
Each one of the adventurers brought out his weapon. The pursuing Esquimaux seemed aware that their former captives had observed them, and urged their dog teams to greater speed. It was indeed a race.
Dirola's animals had been urged almost to their limit, and were now lagging. Voice and whip no longer served to send them forward. Several of the beasts were limping.