Part 19 (1/2)

Putting himself in the position of a swimmer, the sailor began pawing at the snow and kicking it with his feet. The snow was hard packed against his face and he thought his lungs would burst. But he was making progress. Now, he dared back off a trifle and take a long breath of air from the burrow he had made. Then a sound stirred him to renewed effort.

It was the thud and jar of an impact. The tiger, having made his first leap, had missed. How many more times would he do this? The boy once more jamming his head against the snow renewed his swimming motions. Again he was obliged to pause for breath. Again the tiger sprang; this time, seemingly, he was more accurate. Again the race was renewed. The boy's mind was in a whirl. Would his companion understand and risk a shot as the tiger prepared for another spring? He hoped so. Surely, he could not endure the strain much longer. One thing he was certain of, he could not hear the report of the rifle if a shot were fired. He must struggle on in ignorance of what was going on above him. The thought was maddening. The air in the narrow channel was stifling; yet, he burrowed on, and heard again the heavy impact.

He had burrowed his length and backed off again for breath, when he was forced to the realization that he could endure the air of the channel no longer. Apparently, the tiger's last leap had completely closed it.

Resolving to fight his way out, and then to trust all to flight, he thrust his hands upward and again began to burrow. With dizzy brain and wildly beating heart, he felt at length the fresh, frosty air upon his cheek.

But what was this that reached his ears? Surely not the roar of the tiger. Instead it was the joyous cry of his companion.

Dragging the snow from his eyes, Rainey stared about him. There, not five paces from him, lay the tiger with a bullet in his brain, while beside the body stood Thompson.

”Well,” said the hunter with a grin, ”you're sure some mouse!”

”And you're some shot!” said Rainey, floundering through the snow to his companion's side. ”I guess that's the finest tiger skin in the world.”

”It's yours as much as mine,” answered Thompson. ”We'll go share and share alike.”

CHAPTER XIII

BRUCE AND THE BEAR

During this time of mishaps and adventures for the submarine party, what was happening to the boys and the Major in their airplane? With fair wind and weather they might well have been on the return journey from the Pole. But fair wind and weather are not for long in the Arctic. They were, indeed, on their way. As they shot away into the air from the native village near the trader's schooner, they heard the natives calling one word in unison. It was the Eskimo name for Thunder-bird.

The Major smiled happily at the boys as the plane soared upward.

Barney was again at the wheel. Two things he dreaded now: engine trouble, which might be brought on by poor gasoline, and an Arctic blizzard. If forced to land at any time, they would be in great danger of a crash, and a storm would double the danger.

But there could never have been a more wonderful day than that on which they left the little camp for the great adventure. Not a cloud whitened the blue dome of the sky, not a breath of air stirred. Soon the sun sank from sight, and twilight, strange and wonderful, lasting through three long hours, faded slowly into night. Then below them lay yellow lights and deep purple shadows, with here and there a stretch of black, which told of open water between floes.

The air grew colder as night came on, and speeding northward they saw the thermometer dropping degree by degree, and felt the chill creep through their garments in defiance of their electrical heating device. Barney began to worry about the effect of this intense cold on the tempered steel of his engines and the many-layered wood of his propellers; but as they sped on hour after hour, this restlessness left him.

But what was this? He found the machine shooting through s.p.a.ce with greater freedom. One answer there was: a storm. They had been caught in the advance of a blizzard; how great and terrible, none could tell.

”Going to storm. Better land,” telephoned the Major.

Obeying his orders, the boy dropped to a lower level. Here the wind was more intense and the air was filled with fine particles of snow which raced with them, only to glide away into the background. The whole ice-floe was already gray and indistinct from the drift. To pick a landing-place seemed impossible. For several moments of agonizing suspense they sped on; then, just as they were about to despair, there appeared before them a long expanse of white. Wide as three city boulevards, endless in extent, it appeared to offer just the opportunity they were seeking.

With a sign Barney shut off his engine, and, sailing on the wind, waited for a lull to give him a safe landing.

The lull came, then with a swoop, like a wild duck seeking water, they hovered, settled, then touched the surface.

The landing-wheels were shooting along over the snow with Barney's keen eyes strained ahead that he might avoid possible rough spots, when there came a cry of dismay from Bruce. With one startled glance about, Barney saw all. To the right and left of them the ice seemed to rise like the walls of an inverted tent. ”Rubber-ice,” his mind told him like a flash.

They had attempted to land where the water had but recently frozen over, and was covered with a deceptive coating of snow. Only one hope remained: to rise again. Once the weak rubber-ice--thin, elastic salt-water ice--gave way, nothing could save them.

Tilting the planes and tail to their utmost capacity, Barney set first one engine in motion and then the other. But the yielding ice gave them no purchase. At the same time, it impeded their progress by offering them the slope of a mountain side to climb. One thing favored them. The peril of a moment before became a blessing. The wind freshened at every blast.

At last, with a terrific swoop, it seized them and sent them whirling upward. In the down-swoop, they were all but crashed on a towering pile of ice, but escaping this fate, once more they were away.

Despite this near-catastrophe, Barney was determined to make a landing.

The chill of the storm was so benumbing to muscles and senses that further flying could only result in stupor, then death.