"Some, but not a great many. He says Dr. Cook left Annootok about the middle of February, taking with him eleven natives with their sledges, and over a hundred dogs. The party pushed on steadily day after day, across Ellesmere Land to the Garfield Coast, hunting considerably on the way. From Nansen Sound Dr. Cook made almost a bee-line for the Pole, a distance of about eight degrees, or, roughly speaking, five hundred and fifty miles. On his final dash, he had with him only two Esquimaux, the others being sent back at various times."

"And where is he now?" questioned Andy.

"He is getting back to civilization as fast as possible, to send word home. If what Estankawak says is true, Dr. Cook has done a wonderful thing--something for which explorers have been striving for ages."

"Then we won't be the first at the Pole!" said Chet, ruefully.

"Never mind, Chet, if we get there, we'll be the first boys at the Pole!" answered Andy, quickly.

"That's so," answered Chet, and looked a little relieved.

"Did you ask the Esquimau if he knew anything about Commander Peary's trip this year?" questioned Dr. Slade.

"Yes. He tells me that Peary is north of us, at Cape Sheridan, and has been there since the middle of last September. He, too, is going to make a dash for the Pole, and may even now be on the way."

"Perhaps we'll meet him!" cried Andy.

"It is not likely with so many miles of snow and ice between us,"

answered Barwell Dawson.

The news concerning Dr. Cook made the explorer more anxious than ever to be on the way, and one bright Wednesday afternoon it was announced that the expedition would start northward on the following morning. The party was to consist of Mr. Dawson, the professor, Dr. Slade, Mr. Camdal, and the two boys, and eight Esquimaux. The natives were to drive eight of their best sledges drawn by ninety-six dogs. They were to travel northward to Grant Land, and then make a straight dash for the Pole.

Captain Williamson and his men were to remain as near them along the coast as the weather would permit, awaiting their return.

"And I hope with all my heart that you all come back safe and sound,"

said the commander of the _Ice King_.

"Wish you were going along, Captain," said Andy.

"So do I, lad; but my place is by the ship. You'll want the _Ice King_ when you get back."

At last came the moment for leaving. All the sledges were packed, and the dogs harnessed and ready for action. At the side of the leading team stood Estankawak, long whip in hand.

"All ready!" shouted Barwell Dawson, after a general handshaking.

"Good luck to you!" cried Captain Williamson. "Be sure and bring that North Pole back with you!"

"Sure--on our shoulders!" answered Andy, gleefully.

The explorer motioned to the Esquimau. Crack! went Estankawak's long whip, and off the leading sledge started. The others followed in rapid succession. There was a cheer from those left behind, and an answering cheer from those who were leaving.

"It's North Pole or bust!" said Chet, with a curiously dogged look on his face.

"North Pole or bust!" answered Andy.

"Do not be too sanguine," said Dr. Slade. "Because Dr. Cook has reached that point does not say that we shall be equally successful."

"Don't you think we'll get there, Doctor?" asked Chet, quickly.

"I hope so, but I am prepared to take what comes. I do not believe that you boys understand the dangers and difficulties of the trip before us.

We may not reach the Pole, and we may not even get back alive. Arctic explorations have, in the past, cost many hundreds of lives."

"Don't discourage the lads," broke in Professor Jeffer, briskly. "We shall succeed--I know it, I feel it. And when we stand on the apex of the world,--where there is no east, no west, no north, only south--ah, what a glorious prospect!" And he waved his arms enthusiastically.

"That's the talk!" shouted Andy. "We'll get there somehow, and don't you forget it!"

"It's North Pole or bust!" repeated Chet, "North Pole or bust!"

CHAPTER XXIV

THE LAST HUNT

It was Barwell Dawson's intention to strike out directly for Cape Richards, the most northerly point of Grant Land. It may be added that this locality was only a short distance west of the point from which Commander Peary made his successful dash for the Pole. Dr. Cook's route was still further westward, so Mr. Dawson's trail lay almost midway between those of the world-renowned Pole-seekers.

It was a clear, mild day, and for the first few miles the going was excellent. Everybody was in the best of humor, and the boys felt like whistling. Estankawak was in the lead with his sledge, and Olalola followed him, while the others came behind in a bunch. The dogs trotted along evenly, and the drivers had little trouble with them.

"This weather is fine," remarked Barwell Dawson. "I only trust it continues."

"Well, it will continue for a few days, that is certain," answered Professor Jeffer. "But after that----" He shrugged his shoulders. "We'll have to take what comes."

For several days the expedition traveled through the heart of Ellesmere Land, and there found excellent hunting. Polar bears, musk oxen, and caribou were there in plenty, and the party also laid low many Arctic hares and foxes, and likewise a few Arctic petrel.

"We must hunt while we have the chance," said Barwell Dawson. "The more meat we secure now, the greater will be our stock of provisions when we get to where there is nothing but ice and snow." And all understood this, and hunted to the best possible advantage.

By the time the north sh.o.r.e of Grant Land was reached it was much colder, and now they occasionally encountered snowstorms, but fortunately these were of short duration. Reaching the vicinity of Cape Richards, they went into a temporary camp, to rest up and repair some of the sledges which had become broken.

"I am going on another hunt tomorrow--possibly our last," announced Barwell Dawson. "Do you boys want to go along?"

Both were eager to go, and the start was made directly after breakfast.

They took with them two rifles and a shotgun, and provisions to last for four meals.

After skirting a small hill of ice, they came upon a narrow lead of clear blue water and following this, reached a point where the ice had been driven in a tight pack for miles. Here they saw the traces of a polar bear, and were soon hot on the trail, which led them along the lead, and then into the interior.

"I see him!" whispered Andy, after nearly a mile had been covered. "He is lying down behind yonder hummock!"

Andy was right, but before they could reach his bearship, the animal scented them and hobbled away.

"He is lame!" cried Chet. "I think we can catch him! Anyway, let us try."

The others were willing, and away they went over the ice, which soon became comparatively smooth. Once Chet lost his footing and went flat.

But he soon got up and continued after the others.

Finding he could not escape those who were pursuing him, the polar bear turned as if to attack them. Both Andy and Barwell Dawson fired at the beast, and he rolled over in a death convulsion, and was speedily put out of his misery by Chet with his hunting knife.

"See, his forefoot is gone," said Andy, as they surrounded the game.