All gazed around them. To the east and west, as well as the south, lay the long stretches of snow and ice. Northward were the same ice and snow, with numerous leads of clear, bluish water.

"There is our camp," said the explorer, pointing to some dark objects in the distance.

"How far is it?" asked Chet.

"I can't say exactly. Probably two miles. Distances are very deceiving in this atmosphere."

"There is that lead of water we must have followed yesterday," said Andy, pointing.

"Yes," answered Barwell Dawson. "We won't go back that way, though--we'll try the route over yonder."

They were soon down the hill again, and making for the spot where they had left the polar bear. Resuming the load, they struck off as best they could in the direction of the camp.

About half the distance had been covered when they found themselves quite unexpectedly on the edge of some "young" ice,--that is, ice recently frozen. It did not seem safe, and Barwell Dawson decided to turn back, in the direction of the route they had followed when leaving camp. This brought them to the lead of the day previous, and they were surprised to note that the water was much wider than before.

"The ice must be moving," said Barwell Dawson. "I think the sooner we get back to camp the better."

They had a small hill of ice before them, and started to skirt this.

Andy was in the lead, and as he pa.s.sed a rise of ice and snow, he heard a sudden roar that made him jump.

"What was that?" he cried, in alarm.

"A walrus!" answered Barwell Dawson. "And close at hand, too. Get your guns ready, boys!"

CHAPTER XXV

CROSSING THE GREAT LEAD

In less than a quarter of a minute more they came in sight of the walrus, stretched out on the ice close to the lead. It was a large specimen, weighing a good many hundred pounds, and as awkward as it was heavy.

At the sight of the man and boys the beast raised itself up slightly and started as if to turn back into the water. As it did this, Barwell Dawson raised the rifle, took steady aim, and sent a bullet through its head.

"That's a fine shot!" exclaimed Andy as the walrus fell back, uttering a roar of pain. "Shall I give it another?"

"Might as well," was the explorer's answer, and the lad quickly complied, the shot scattering into the walrus's head, killing it almost instantly.

Scarcely had the echo of the discharge penetrated the air, when there came a number of loud roars from a little further around the icy hill.

The hunters advanced, and Chet uttered a yell:

"Look! look! Did you ever see so many walruses in your life!"

He pointed ahead, but there was no need to do this, for all saw, only a couple of hundred feet away, a veritable herd of walruses numbering at least a hundred if not twice that number. They had heard the death-cry of their mate, and were lumbering forward to see what was the matter.

"We can't fight such a crowd as that!" exclaimed Andy, aghast. "We had better clear out."

"I wish the Esquimaux were here," returned Barwell Dawson. "We could make a mighty haul of walrus meat, and that is what we need." He looked at the boys. "Who is the better runner of you two?" he asked.

"Andy," answered Chet, promptly. "He can outrun me twice over."

"Then supposing you leg it for camp just as hard as you can," continued the explorer. "Tell the Esquimaux and Mr. Camdal to come as quickly as possible."

Without waiting for more words, Andy was off like a shot, directly past the walruses, who simply raised themselves up to gaze stupidly at him.

The others had withdrawn from sight, and when the beasts saw Andy running away they thought themselves alone. Slowly they lumbered over the ice and surrounded their dead companion, uttering hoa.r.s.e roars that could be heard a long way off.

Andy had the direction of the camp well in mind, and made as straight a run for it as the nature of the ice permitted. With such heavy clothing a record run was impossible, yet he covered the distance in good time.

He found the Esquimaux outside of their _igloos_, listening to the roaring of the walruses, which could be heard far away over the ice. He soon made them acquainted with what was wanted, and with a glad shout they started off with their spears and bows and arrows. Then he aroused Mr. Camdal, and the latter got his shotgun and an ax.

"An ax is sometimes better than a gun," explained Mr. Camdal. "You can sometimes crush a walrus's skull with one well-aimed blow from an ax."

The Esquimaux were ahead, but the others soon caught up with them. The walruses were still roaring and bellowing. One of the natives said this was a sign that they were getting ready to move.

As they drew closer, the Esquimaux spread out in a semicircle, and held up their spears ready for use. Olalola was in the lead, for he was considered by all to be the best hunter.

The walruses were found almost where they had been when Andy went for aid. A few surrounded the dead beast, sniffing the carca.s.s suspiciously.

Evidently they had never been hunted, and did not know the meaning of a gunshot.

As soon as the Esquimaux were sufficiently close, they threw their spears, and followed these up with a number of arrows. In the meantime the others discharged their firearms, and then Mr. Camdal rushed in boldly with his ax. By this means eight of the huge creatures were laid low before they could help themselves. The others turned to gain the open water, and went sousing in, sending the icy spray in all directions.

In his enthusiasm, Chet had drawn close to the lead, and before he knew it he found two of the walruses confronting him. He dodged one, but the other beast knocked him flat with one blow of a flipper. It looked as if his life would be crushed out a moment later.

Andy saw his chum fall, and for the moment his heart leaped into his throat. Then he jumped to the front, and sent a bullet into the breast of the walrus. But this was not fatal, and the walrus still lurched forward.

"Pull Chet away!" yelled Mr. Dawson, and fired from a distance, the bullet hitting the walrus just below the head. Then a spear whizzed through the air, thrown by Olalola. This caught the beast in the mouth, and went part way down its throat. The walrus flopped backward, and at that moment Andy caught his chum by the leg, and dragged him out of danger. Then Mr. Camdal came to the front, and a blow from the ax finished the beast.

The battle was now practically over, for the walruses that were alive had taken to the water. Those that were badly wounded could not swim very well, and the Esquimaux went after them, bringing in two. The total killing amounted to thirteen.

"That's a lucky thirteen," was Barwell Dawson's comment, after the excitement was over. "The meat is just what we want, for the Esquimaux and the dogs, and the hides will come in handy, for footwear and harness."

It was no easy task to get the walruses and the polar bear to the camp, and several of the dog sledges had to be brought up for that purpose.

Then two days were spent in getting the meat ready for use, and in preparing the hides.

It was a clear, cold day when the next start northward was made. A light wind blew from the westward. Barwell Dawson calculated that they might cover twenty, if not twenty-five, miles.

"From now on we must do our best," said he. "We can afford no more delays, otherwise our food supply may give out before we get back."

Fortunately all were in the best of health, although Professor Jeffer suffered a little from snow-blindness. He at once donned a pair of smoked goggles, and several of the others did likewise.

The end of the week found them a hundred and fifteen miles closer to the Pole. They had encountered two leads, but had managed to get across without great difficulty. One of the sledges had been badly damaged, and it was resolved to break it up, and use the parts in repairing the other turnouts. Two of the dogs were sick, and had to be killed.

The next day the weather changed, and for forty-eight hours they struggled on through a heavy snowstorm, with the wind fortunately on their backs. During this storm one of the sledges fell into some open water, and three dogs were drowned, while a small portion of the outfit went out of sight into the Arctic Sea.

"All hands must be more careful after this," said Barwell Dawson. "As we advance, going will probably become more treacherous. Keep your eyes wide open."