"He was not more than one hundred feet behind me when the storm began," said Serge, whose anxiety caused him to pause in his labor, though it was for the preservation of their lives.
"He must be in some trouble," said Phil, "and I am going back to find him."
"You can't go alone!" cried Serge. "If you are to get lost, I must go with you."
"No. One of us must stay here with Nel-te, and it is my duty to go; but do you shout every few seconds, and I promise not to go beyond sound of your voice."
Thus saying, Phil started back, and was instantly swallowed in the vortex of the blizzard. Faithfully did Serge shout, and faithfully did Phil answer, for nearly fifteen minutes. Then the latter came staggering back, with horror-stricken face and voice.
"I can't find him, Serge! Oh, I can't find him!" he cried. "I am afraid he has gone over the precipice. If he has, it is my fault, and I shall never forgive myself, for I had no business to go so far ahead and let the party get scattered."
Serge answered not a word, but fell with desperate energy to the excavating of his snow-house. His heart was nigh breaking with the sorrow that had overtaken them, but he was determined that no other lives should be lost if his efforts could save them. The excavation was soon so large that Phil could work with him, but with all their furious digging they secured a shelter from the pitiless poorga none too soon. The sledge was already buried from sight, and poor little Nel-te was wellnigh smothered ere they lifted him from it and pulled him into the burrow.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
COASTING FIVE MILES IN FIVE MINUTES.
In spite of their faintness and weakness from hunger and exhaustion, Phil and Serge were so stimulated by the emergency that within half an hour they had dug a cavity in the great drift sufficiently large to hold the three dogs as well as themselves. The excavation was driven straight for a few feet, and then turned to one side, where it was so enlarged that they could either lie down or sit up. Into this diminutive chamber they dragged their robes and sleeping-bags. The shivering dogs crept in and curled up at their feet. The sledge was left outside, and the opening was closed as well as might be by the slab of compacted snow that had been cut from it. Poor little Nel-te, who was numbed and whimpering with cold and hunger, was rubbed into a glow, comforted and petted, until at length he fell asleep, nestled between the lads, and then they found time to talk over their situation. For a while they had no thought save for the dear friend and trusty comrade, who, alive or dead, was still out in that terrible storm, and, as they believed, lost to them forever.