Faster and faster went the sleighs. Showers of ice splinters flew up on either side of the bone runners. The wind whistled past Jack's face. Then, as a sled of one of the natives shot near to Jack's, the boy noticed that the Esquimaux's face was calm, and he was smiling a bit.
"This doesn't look as if he was going to be killed," reasoned the boy. But the speed of the sleds never slackened and Jack was much afraid, as were the other prisoners.
But at length, with a swish and a whizz, the sleighs shot around a curve, and slid out on a broad expanse of smooth ice. Off jumped the natives, laughing and chatting. Then Jack realized the truth.
The Esquimaux, instead of trusting to their dogs to draw them down the steep hill, had simply coasted, just as Jack had done many a time at home.
In a little while the dogs, that had been led by a number of the natives down an easier path than that which the steep hill offered, came up, barking and yelping. They were again harnessed to the sledges, and the journey commenced once more.
This time it did not last more than an hour. It was along a level stretch of ice, and soon they were in the midst of an Esquimaux village.
Huts of ice, with rounded tops, were on every side, with here and there a tent made of seal skins stretched over poles. There were several hundred inhabitants, who mingled with the members of the hunting party, that included men, women and children, for, when the Esquimaux go for a several days' stay after fish they take their families along.
"We seem to have struck camp at last," remarked the professor to Andy.
"I wonder what they are going to do with us now."
"The least they could do would be to untie us and give us a good meal," growled the old hunter, who was stiff from being bound so long on the sled.
"Who said dinner?" broke in Washington from his sled. "I jest wish I had a chicken pot-pie!"