"Well, I wouldn't mind a little more education," said Chet, bluntly.

"I'll be pleased to teach you, my boy. I was once a schoolmaster--although that was years ago."

"Professor, do you really think we'll reach the Pole?" asked Andy, earnestly.

"I do not think; I hope. Many have tried and failed, but I believe the Pole will be gained some day, and we'll have an excellent chance of success. Mr. Dawson is a wonderful man--he seems more wonderful every time I talk to him. He is fitting up his ship with the greatest possible care and forethought, and has made a deep study of polar conditions.

Besides, he has had practical experience on the fields of ice and snow, and knows just what to expect in the way of hardships."

The run to Rathley was made in less than two hours. It had been decided that the party should put up at a hotel for a few days, until some painting on board the _Ice King_ was finished. Then they were to go aboard and make themselves at home as best they could until the day set for the departure.

They reached the hotel in the evening, and that night all slept soundly.

In the morning, after breakfast, Chet suggested they walk down to the steamer and see how the painting was progressing.

"Hark!" cried Andy, when they were within two blocks of the wharf. "What is that man crying?"

"Fire! fire! fire!" yelled the individual in question, as he came rushing up the street.

"Where is it?" asked Andy and Chet in a breath.

"Down at the dock! A steamer is on fire!"

"A steamer!" exclaimed Professor Jeffer. "Can it be the _Ice King_?"

"Oh, I hope not!" burst out Andy, and then he set off on a run, with Chet by his side, and the professor following more slowly.

CHAPTER XIV

THE FIRE ON THE STEAMER

"She is doomed! There goes our chance to reach the North Pole!"

Such were the words that escaped from Chet's lips, as he and Andy came out on the dock where the _Ice King_ was tied up.

Before them lay the two-masted steamer, with a thick volume of smoke rolling up from her main hatchway. The fire alarm was sounding, and men and boys were running to the scene of action.

"What a catastrophe!" The words came from Professor Jeffer. He was almost out of breath from running. "I hope they can save her!"

"Wonder what is burning?" queried Andy. He, too, felt his heart sink within him.

"Can of benzine exploded," answered a man standing near. "The painters had it, and one of 'em dropped a lighted match on the can."

"He ought to be blown up with it," fumed Chet. "Who ever heard of such carelessness!"

There was the tooting of a whistle, and a fire engine came dashing down the street, followed by a hose cart and a hook and ladder company. In the meantime, Captain Williamson had sounded the alarm on the ship, and set some men to work at a hand pump, for the engineer had no steam in the boilers.

"Can we do anything, Captain?" asked Andy, as he ran up the gangplank.

"I don't know," was the short answer. "Might help at the pump, or help carry buckets of water. If we had the engine going we'd soon get a good stream on that blaze, but we didn't look for anything like this."

Andy and Chet tried to get to the pump, but found that already manned.

Then they got buckets and ropes, and commenced to haul up water over the side, and a number of other boys and men did likewise. Some sailors took the full buckets and threw the water down the hatchway, where they thought it would do the most good. Then the fire engine on the dock got into action, and a steady stream was directed down into the interior of the steamer.

But the conflagration had gained considerable headway, and some cans of paints and oils added ready fuel to the blaze. The smoke grew thicker and thicker, and presently a tongue of flame shot skyward.

"She's doomed sure!" groaned Chet. "Oh, was there ever such luck!"

"The trouble is that the water doesn't do much good on the paint and oil," exclaimed Professor Jeffer. "Sand or dirt would be better."

"Here comes a chemical engine!" cried Andy. "Maybe that will do some good."

"It will do more good than throwing water," said the old scientist.

The chemical engine got into action without delay, and as the chemicals were forced down the hatchway the smoke became even thicker than before.

But the tongues of flame died down, which the boys took for a good sign.

Barwell Dawson was not on hand, he having gone to Boston on business.

"If the vessel isn't saved, it will be an awful blow to him," was Andy's comment.

The boys continued to work, and so did the sailors and the firemen. Thus an anxious quarter of an hour pa.s.sed. Then the chief of the fire department happened to pa.s.s Chet.

"Will the vessel be saved?" asked the lad.

"Sure thing!" cried the old fire-fighter. "But it's a blaze hard to get at. If a man tried to go down there, he'd be smothered in a minute."

Nevertheless, some of the hook and ladder men went into the engine room, and there chopped a hole through a bulkhead into the hold. Then more chemicals were used, and more water, and soon it was announced that the fire was under control. A little later the smoke cleared away, and the firemen went below, to put out any stray sparks.

It was found that the total damage was confined to that portion of the hold where the painters had stored their paints and oils. Here the woodwork was much charred, and some beams and braces were burnt through.

But Captain Williamson estimated that two hundred dollars would make everything as good as ever.

"And that I'm going to get out of those painters," he went on, doggedly.

"If they don't pay up, I'll have 'em arrested for gross carelessness."

It may be said here that in the end the painters had to pay for the repairs, although they did so unwillingly.

A telegram was sent to Mr. Dawson, and he came from Boston on the first train. He was much disturbed, and roundly berated the painter who had caused the conflagration. The man had been smoking, and the hunter gave orders that in the future they were to smoke on deck only, and use no matches whatever while below.

The repairs made necessary by the fire were made within ten days, and then the task of getting the _Ice King_ ready for her long trip to the Arctic regions went forward as rapidly as ever. Mr. Dawson was a busy man, for he superintended the buying of everything, from fur clothing to pemmican.

"Pemmican is the great thing in the Arctic regions," he explained one day, when Andy asked about the food. "It is nothing but the round of beef, cut into strips and dried, and then mixed with beef tallow and currants. It will keep for a long time, and is highly nutritious."

"Is it appetizing?" asked Andy, with a grin.

"It is when you are good and hungry, Andy. Besides, it is comparatively light, and easily carried. I don't know what explorers would do without it. Of course, as long as we can get fresh meat, we'll eat that. But we'll have to fall back on pemmican more or less. You'll find it more appetizing than seal blubber, such as the Esquimaux eat."