“What shall we do?” asked Ned.
“Got to find that out, I guess,” admitted the young inventor. “First of all the boys will have to fix that pontoon. It’s a mess. And without it in position the flying boat will be lopsided when I try to raise her.”
“Great!” groaned Ned. “So we are marooned down here at the bottom of this hole in the ice?”
Tom went aft to confer with his mechanicians. Ned and Kingston got into their outer furs, lent an extra coat to Captain Karofsen, and the trio opened the door and by the aid of a light steel ladder got down upon the ice.
The gorge was not more than four hundred feet wide at this point, and the walls of ice towered above their heads at least a thousand feet. If they found it necessary to scale those heights afoot, it would be a difficult and perilous venture.
Tom and the mechanicians came piling out after a bit, and a close inspection was made of the airtight boat pendant from the right wing. It could be repaired, of course; but it necessarily would take considerable time.
“Go ahead,” said Tom. “We have food and heat in plenty. Do your best, Brannigan. Meanwhile the rest of us will take a look through this cañon. I wonder if firing our rifles would attract the attention of Mr. Nestor and the others if they are near here.”
“I tell you what it might do,” said the wireless operator, Kingston.
“What’s that?”
“It might bring down an avalanche of ice on our heads. You know a cracking stick has been known to start an avalanche.”