Lost in the land of ice

It was a moment of extreme peril, and nobody knew that better than did the three who were thus confronted by the gigantic birds of the South Polar circle.

Barry had heard of these birds before—from an old sea captain who had seen them twice and had a fierce fight with them—but he had not anticipated that they were quite so large and bloodthirsty.

For bloodthirsty they surely were, with their reddish eyes glaring wickedly, and their long, sharp beaks thrust out as if to run them through.

Bang! went Barry’s gun; for to withdraw from the encounter was now out of the question, and another of the birds fell down, to go swooping over the ice on its wings a moment later, uttering wild cries as it tore along.

The wounding of the second bird appeared to terrorize all but one of the number left, and they lost no time in ascending. But the one which was left was the largest of the flock, and now it renewed the attack with increased vigor.

Swish! the bird flew against Bob, hurling the boy flat and knocking the wind from his body. Then the bird came for Barry, and in his haste to retreat Barry fell over Bob.

A wild yell from Stults followed, and he started to run. But the ice proved too slippery for him, and he pitched flat on his stomach.

This appeared to be just what the monstrous bird wanted, and in a twinkle it settled down upon the German cook and fastened its powerful talons in the man’s clothing. Then followed a rapid flapping of wings, and slowly but surely the bird arose in the air, carrying Stults along!

“My gracious! Look!” burst from Bob’s lips, as he caught sight of the spectacle. “The bird is going to carry Stults off!”

Barry turned over and stared in the direction, hardly willing to believe his eyesight.

“Hellup! hellup!” came faintly from poor Stults. “Der pird vos going to eat me up alretty! Hellup! Let me down der sky owit kvick!”

As soon as he was able, Barry sprang for his rifle and aimed the weapon at the bird. Bang! went the firearm, but the aim was poor, and the beast of the air remained unstruck.

By this time Bob had also partly recovered from the blow received, and he ran for the other rifle. But this was empty. Then he caught up the shotgun.

“Be careful!” came in a warning from Barry. “You may put as many shot into Stults as in the bird.”

All this time the wings of the big bird were thrashing the air fiercely, for the load was a heavy one. It was not yet a hundred feet from the icy plain and had moved slightly to the northward. Bob ran in the direction, and a second later the shot-gun spoke up.

The youth had been careful to fire high, so that most of the leaden pellets entered the back and neck of the gigantic bird. The wounds were not fatal, but it was plain to see the beast of the air was sorely hurt, and slowly but surely it began to descend, until it was skimming over the ice almost within reach of those below.

There was now nothing to do but to give pursuit, and this Bob and Barry did, reloading their weapons as they ran.

Over the ice went the bird with poor Stults, the latter still crying for aid. Once or twice the German cook tried to reach the bird and do it injury, but each time the beast of the air reached down and gave him a peck that drew blood and made him feel as if he was being stabbed.

Presently the bird flew across an opening in the ice field a dozen or more feet wide. Reaching this opening, Bob and Barry had to halt.

“Blocked!” came laconically from the owner of the Arrow.

“The bird is going to settle on yonder summit!” cried Bob, pointing to the hill, which was several rods beyond the crevasse.

He was right, and in a moment more the beast of the air came down on the icy hill and pecking vigorously at Stults’ body.

The sight filled both Bob and Barry with horror, for they could see the German cook doing his best to protect his face, and especially his eyes, from assault. That the big bird meant to kill him there could be no doubt.

Crack! bang! The rifle and the shotgun spoke up as one piece and they saw the feathers fly in all directions. The bird let go its hold upon Stults and came fluttering toward those who had shot at it.

“He’s coming for us!” yelled Bob; but he had scarcely spoken, when the huge beast of the air reached the crevasse, fluttering for a moment on the brink, and then sank with a shrill cry into its depths, to be seen no more.

“He’s gone!” muttered Bob.

“Thank heaven for it,” was Barry’s comment.

Certain that the enemy had disappeared for good, they turned their attention to Stults. The German cook lay on the icy hill motionless.

“Can it be possible that he is dead—that we have killed him?” questioned Bob, in an unsteady voice.

Barry did not answer. He was looking for some way by which the crevasse might be crossed.

At last a way was found, several hundred feet to the eastward, and they ran around as quickly as their feet could carry them. When they reached Stults, they found him muttering fiercely.

“Dake him off! Hellup! Dake me owit of der sky town kvick! Oh, blease ton’t pick mine eyes owit! Ton’t shoot me!” And thus he raved for a long time, for the carrying off had literally scared him out of his wits.

He was bruised in a dozen places, and two of the shot had entered his left foot. But none of his hurts was serious, and in an hour he quieted down and allowed them to lead him back to where the bears had been left. They approached with caution, but the other birds had disappeared, nor did any of the monsters of the air show themselves again.

“I dink me I vos going up into der clouds alretty,” remarked Stults, when he felt able to speak. “I neffer von’t me dot again, not for dree millions tollars; no, not me!” And he shook his head vigorously.

“I reckon none of us want it,” answered Barry. “One such adventure is enough.”

It was growing colder, and to protect themselves they now set to work to build a snow house. The fog had made the hard snow wet, so that packing it became easy, and by the time they wanted to retire, the house was ready for them. It was built in true Esquimaux fashion, with a round, sloping roof, and a little doorway close to the bottom.

“There, that isn’t a palace, but it is much better than nothing,” remarked Barry, when the work was finished.

“If it doesn’t get too hot inside,” came from Bob.

“If you get too hot you can come out and cool off,” laughed Barry. “I know Stults and I won’t suffer from heat.”

“Oxactly so,” said the German cook. “Py chiminy! I vos most frozen alretty!”

Once inside the house, or hut, they lit several candles made of rope’s-end and bear fat, and these not only gave them light but also warmth. A steak was broiled over the lights, and to this it is perhaps needless to say all did full justice. Then the door was all but blocked up, a small hole was poked into the roof for ventilation, and they retired to sleep.