“We had a terrible accident the third day we were on this ice island. We were climbing over the heights, making for a place where we thought of setting up an oar with a flag, although it scarcely seemed possible that there would be any passing ship so late in the fall.
“However,” he went on, “we came to a crevasse in the ice, and in trying to cross it two of the men fell and disappeared. We could not reach them.”
“And bless my disappearing riches!” burst out Wakefield Damon, “the chest with my legacy from Aman Dele fell with them. We lost the men and the thirty thousand dollars in a moment.”
“That is very unfortunate, Mr. Damon,” said Tom seriously. “Where are the other three sailors who made up your party?”
“They are out somewhere now hunting for food—seals or fish, or the like. Brave fellows! Bless their hats and shoestrings! I mean that all of them shall be well paid for their faithfulness to us.”
Captain Karofsen was silent. He had learned by a single question that the two sailors who had fallen into the chasm with the treasure chest were his own brother and his nephew! These relatives had aroused in the schooner captain a great desire to recover the castaways.
“Let’s get out of here and find your other three helpers,” Tom said finally. “We must get back to the gorge in which we left the flying boat. Brannigan will believe we are completely lost.”
“And maybe we are,” said Ned, again pessimistic. “No knowing whether we can get down into that valley again. And, once there, shall we be able to lift the Winged Arrow into the air?”
None of the others paid much attention to Ned’s gloomy words. Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor were too much interested in hearing news from home and Tom’s brief account of the flight of the flying boat from America to Iceland and thence to this part of the Arctic Ocean to listen to Ned.
“It is wonderful!” declared Mr. Nestor. “One could scarcely believe that you would have so easily found this particular iceberg—and us upon it.”