Lost in the land of ice

“The guns, quick!”

It was Barry who spoke, and as he did so he leaped for the rifle and banged away at the nearest bear.

Bob grabbed up a shot-gun and blazed away directly after his chum.

The aim of each was true, and the nearest brute stopped short, badly wounded in the head and the breast.

Stults now gathered his wits together, and determined not to run again as he had done before, caught up the third weapon and also fired at the nearest bear.

The three shots were too much for the beast and with a roar he fell back and rolled over and over in his pain.

Seeing this, the second bear stopped in surprise and then turned as if to retreat.

“He mustn’t get away,” said Bob, who was reloading with all possible haste.

Bang! bang! went the repeating rifle in Barry’s hands, and the second bear received two bullets, one in the breast and the other in his stomach.

His howling was louder than that of his companion, and the din made by both the beasts was almost deafening.

“We’ve got ’em!” cried Bob, and fired once more, and then Stults followed suit.

The battle had been short and decidedly one-sided from the start. Both bears could not get up, and consequently our friends took their own time about putting the beasts out of their misery.

“We won’t waste any more ammunition—we may need it later,” said Barry. “We will finish them with our hunting knives.” And in the course of half an hour, when every particle of fight had gone out of the dying beasts, this was done.

“Now we’ve got meat enough for two months,” said Bob, as he surveyed the carcasses. “And lots of fat for fires, too.”

“I hope there are no more bears on this berg,” said his chum.

Work on the bears kept them busy the best part of the day, which proved as foggy as that which had gone before. But by nightfall the fog cleared away, and when they slept again the air was drier than it had been for a long while.

“The sun at last!” cried Bob, on the morning of the day following. “How good it seems, after that awful fog!”

“Yes; we don’t know how good sunshine is until we have to do without it,” answered Barry.

It was fairly blinding, after so much darkness, and all had to put on smoked glasses, which they had brought with them.

As soon as the morning meal was over, they set out on an exploring tour.

They took their guns with them, and also all the meat they could carry, not knowing how soon they would return to the spot.

It was well they took the meat, as later events proved.

The wind had gone down, but half an hour later it sprang up, blowing harder than ever.

From one end of the ice plain they journeyed to the other, and then did what they could toward climbing an icy summit.

This was hard work, but at last they gained a point where they could look around for miles.

On every side were immense icebergs, with the flowing sea and loose ice between.

“Not a sign of the ship,” said Bob, disappointedly. “It’s too bad.”

Stults heaved a mountainous sigh.

“Pad ain’t der vord,” he said. “It vos awful, Pob, chust awful! Of I got to shtay here long I vos go krazy alretty!”

“Let us hope for the best,” put in Barry, trying to cheer them up. But secretly he was as much downcast as his companions.

From the icy summit they proceeded to the eastern slope of the iceberg. Here were a series of ridges, where the berg had been broken from time to time.

The sky was now beginning to grow dark again, and presently the snow commenced to fall.

“Here, this won’t do!” cried Barry. “If it’s going to snow we had best get back to where we left the bear meat.”

The others were willing, and the return was begun without delay.

But inside of five minutes it was snowing so furiously that they could not see a rod ahead of them.

Presently Stults came to a halt.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bob.

“I vos lost mine bibe,” said the German cook, for he had been consoling himself with a smoke.

He tried in vain to recover the article. It was lost in the fast falling snow and could not be found.

On they went again. The snow was now thicker than ever, and they had to keep close together for fear of becoming separated.

“This is every bit as bad as the fog!” exclaimed Barry. The rapid walking was beginning to tell on him.

Half an hour went by, and they all stared at each other in perplexity.

“Where are we anyway?” asked Bob.

“I must admit I don’t know,” came from Barry.

“The bears ought to be somewhere around here.”

“Perhaps dot snow vos cover dem up?” suggested Stults.

They made a search and then went on. But the bears could not be found. Then they continued their walk.

Presently the German cook let out a cry. He had kicked up something in the snow.

“Mine bibe!”

“Your pipe?” ejaculated Barry.

“Oxactly so.”

“Then we’ve been tramping around in a circle!”

“That’s just what we have done,” came from Bob. “And we are just as far from our former camping place as ever.”

“Well, I’m too tired to go another step.”

“So am I.”

“I vos more as tired,” sighed Stults. “I could sleep der snow on midowit droubles alretty.”

“Then we might as well camp right here,” concluded Barry.

This was an easy thing to do, with no shelter to erect. At first they thought they might build a snow house, but as yet the snow was hardly deep enough. Huddled together, they lay down to sleep, and after awhile all dropped off into blessed forgetfulness. Thoroughly exhausted, all slept soundly for over eight hours.

When they arose they found the snow nearly a foot and a half deep and still coming down, although not so heavily as before.

“What a scene!” exclaimed Barry, as he shook himself. “Bob, we are lost in the land of ice and no mistake.”

“The land of ice and the land of snow,” was the answer. “And I must say I don’t like it a bit.”

“We must locate those bears,” went on the owner of the Arrow. “If we don’t, we may be left to starve to death.”

Breakfast was soon over and they set off again.

This time they took care that they should not travel in a circle. Nevertheless, they lost the trail half a dozen times, and it was growing dark once more by the time they came in sight of their supply of meat.

A flock of birds had come down out of the snow-laden sky and were pecking vigorously at the bear carcasses.

The birds were immense creatures, with wings spreading out a yard or more. They were of the condor species, but different from those found in the Andes Mountains.

“Wait! I’ll take a shot at them!” cried Bob, and before Barry could stop him he had let drive with his shotgun.

The charge took two of the big birds fairly and squarely, and a wild fluttering of wings followed as the creatures tumbled down on top of the dead bears.

“Hurrah! that was a fine shot!” began Bob, and then stopped short.

For the other birds had circled upward only to swoop down again.

“Look out! They are coming for us!” ejaculated Barry, and Stults gave a shriek of terror.

Barry was right; the big birds were indeed coming for them, and in another instant one of them wheeled about and made a swoop directly for Bob’s face.