Lost in the land of ice

Poor Stults had indeed gotten into difficulty, but not with the two remaining bears.

In running off to save himself, he had missed the path back to the ship and floundered headlong into a crack in the iceberg.

The crack was shaped like the letter V and was all of ten feet wide at the top and twenty-five or thirty feet deep.

Poor Stults was now lying at the bottom of the crack, wedged in so tightly that he could scarcely move.

“Hi, Stults! Where are you?” called out Bob, as he drew close to the spot.

“Hellup!” came from the German cook. “Hellup, udder I vos froze to death alretty!”

“Where are you?”

“Py der bottom of der hole town! Vos dot you, Pob?”

“Yes.”

“Den git von rope and pull me owt kvick!”

“Are you in that crack?”

“Yah, dot’s me, and I vos sthuck so fast like neffer vos.”

Bob gave a hasty glance around and saw that no bears were within several hundred yards of the spot. Then he threw himself flat and crawled to the edge of the crevasse. Peering over he could just make out the huddled-up form below.

“Are you holding fast?” he asked.

“Holdin’ fast! Mine cracious, I ton’t haf to hold fast. Didn’t I told you I vos sthuck so fast like a fly on der fly-baber? Git a rope and bull me out, dot’s a goot poy, Pob!”

By this time Barry was coming up on a slow walk, bound to do what he could for his friends, should they prove to be in trouble.

“What are you doing there, Bob?”

“Stults is down there—stuck fast in the crack. He wants us to haul him out.”

“Then there are no bears around?”

“I don’t see any.”

Luckily the party had brought with them a rope, to be used in hauling any game they might bring down back to the ship. This was now produced, and one end was lowered into the crevasse.

“Catch hold, down there!” cried Bob.

“Hold of vot?” panted the German cook.

“Hold of the rope. I’ve tied a noose on the end. Put that under your arms and we’ll haul you out.”

But, as said before, Stults had gone into the crack head first.

Consequently to get hold of the noose, much less to place it under his arms, was out of the question.

“I can’t git hold!” he cried, after a struggle.

“You must!” called Bob. “It’s the only way we can help you. It will take both of us to haul you up.”

Poor Stults floundered around for several minutes. The sides of the opening were like glass and to get a purchase anywhere was impossible.

At last, however, he called upon them to haul away.

“I can’t do much,” sighed Barry. “That bear took all the strength out of me.”

Yet he took hold and did what he could, and between them they hauled their living burden to the top of the crevasse.

When Bob caught sight of the German cook he let out a roar of laughter.

Stults had been unable to get hold of the rope with his hands and so had done some fishing with his feet.

One foot had caught in the noose, and now he came up feet first with the rope around his left ankle and his body stretched out in spread-eagle fashion.

“Hurrah! he’s saved by a leg!” cried Bob.

“Yah, I vos safed, but I ton’t feel so goot as before I vent dot hole town,” said the cook, ruefully.

“You can be thankful you didn’t drop clean out of sight, under this iceberg,” said Bob.

“And that no bones were broken,” added Barry.

Stults wanted to know all about the three polar bears. He was very much ashamed over having run away at the critical moment.

“Put I dinks me ve vos all going to get chewed up alretty!” he explained. “Von of dose pears opened his mouth and I vos seen clear town into his stomach!”

As soon as the excitement was over and Barry and Stults felt like moving, the three walked back to where the dead bear lay. As they proceeded they kept their eyes and ears open for a sight of more game, but not a living thing appeared anywhere around them.

“The shooting has scared them off,” said Barry. “But even one bear is a good haul. It will mean fresh meat for a week or more for all hands.”

“If it doesn’t prove as strong and tough as old bull meat,” answered Bob.

“We can make it tender by freezing it for a few days.”

“Yah, dot is it,” put in Stults. “Dot ist der vay ve do mit all boultry in der Fadderlandt.”

When they arrived at the place where they had left the bear, they found the game undisturbed.

“Dot’s goot meat!” cried the cook, after an inspection. “I like me von steak from dot.”

“Yes, a bear steak won’t go bad,” put in Bob. “It will——”

The youth stopped short. A strange grinding noise had reached their ears. Now the iceberg trembled under their feet to such an extent that all three were hurled flat.

“What can this mean?” came from Barry. “Is the berg turning over?”

“If dot is so, ve vill all peen drowned!” wailed Stults. “Oh, vy didn’t I shtay by der ship alretty!”

The strange grinding and rocking lasted for fully two minutes, and then gradually ceased, and the vast plain under them remained as before.

Slowly they arose to their feet, gazing uneasily at each other.

“I must say, I don’t like this,” remarked Barry, gravely.

“Nor do I,” put in Bob. “What a shaking up it was!”

“Who vould like dot?” put in Stults. “To peen drown town like a nine-bin alretty!”

“You don’t understand,” continued the owner of the steam yacht. “The Arrow——” He stopped short and put up his hand. “Hark!”

They listened, and from a distance heard another grinding and a crashing.

“This iceberg must have struck some other berg!” cried Bob.

“More than likely.”

“What were you going to say about the Arrow? Do you think she has been wrecked?”

“I trust not. But we had better run back and make sure.”

“And leave dot pear?” asked Stults.

“For the present. We can come back later—if everything is O. K.”

Without further words they set off over the ice in the direction where the Arrow had been left.

It was a hard journey, especially to Barry, who had not yet fully recovered from the contact with the big polar bear.

But at last they gained a point where they could look ahead to the spot where the Arrow had been fast in the ice.

Then a cry of dismay burst from all three at once.

The steam yacht had disappeared!