CHAPTER XXIII

"NORTH POLE OR BUST!"

Down in the cabin of the _Ice King_, close to a roaring fire, Captain Williamson and Barwell Dawson were playing a game of checkers--the captain's favorite amusement. Chet had been watching with interest, but had now gone on deck for a few minutes, to get the fresh air and to see what had become of his chum.

Suddenly through the stillness of the Arctic night Chet heard Andy's cry for aid. He strained his eyes and saw the flicker of a light, as Loggermore struck one of the matches.

"Something is wrong," cried Chet to himself, and then tumbled down the companionway in a hurry.

"What's the matter?" exclaimed Captain Williamson, startled by the youth's abrupt entrance.

"Something is wrong with Andy--he is calling for help!" answered Chet.

Both the captain and the explorer leaped up, scattering the checkers in all directions. Each ran for his fur coat and mitts, and each caught up a gun, and Chet did the same. Then they scrambled up on deck in double-quick haste, and leaped over the side of the steamer on to the uneven ice below.

"Where is he?" asked Barwell Dawson.

"Up at the storehouse. He yelled----Look, the place is on fire!"

Both men gazed in the direction, and then Captain Williamson let out a yell that could be heard throughout the entire ship: "All hands turn out to fight fire!"

Chet started on a run, with Barwell Dawson at his heels, the captain remaining behind to rouse the hands to action, for in a twinkling he realized what it would mean were the stores burned.

When Chet reached his chum, Andy lay flat on his back in the snow, motionless. Pep Loggermore was dancing before the ever-increasing flames, shouting gleefully.

"Light at last! I told you I'd have light!" shrieked the crazed sailor.

"Andy, what is it?" asked Chet, and bent over his chum. Then he saw some sparks on Andy's clothing, and saw that part of his lower garments had been burnt off. Loggermore had had sense enough to extinguish the blaze on his own clothing.

Soon half a dozen of the sailors and Esquimaux were on the scene, and they began to put out the flames by throwing snow and cakes of ice on the storehouse. In the meantime Chet pulled Andy to a safe distance. As he did this the latter opened his eyes and started up.

"Le--let go, Loggermore!" he gasped.

"It's all right, Andy."

"Oh, is that you, Chet! Whe--where is Loggermore?"

"Dancing around like a maniac."

"He is crazy. He--he tried to burn me and strangle me!" panted Andy.

"What in the world made him crazy?"

"The darkness. He wanted a light, so he set fire to the storehouse."

By this time Andy felt a little better. But he was very weak, and Chet had to help him back to the steamer. Here he sat down and told his tale. Then Chet went out to relate what he had heard to Captain Williamson and the others.

It took but a few minutes of energetic work to put out the fire. When the commander of the _Ice King_ saw the battered oil can and box of matches he was furious.

"The man who did this ought to be strung up on the yardarm!" he exclaimed.

"Loggermore did it, but he is not accountable," said Chet, and told what Andy had had to say.

"Where is Loggermore?" asked Dr. Slade. "I'll have to take him in hand."

A hurried search was made for the crazed man, but he had run away. A party was sent out for him, and he was found nearly a mile from the ship, dancing on the ice, singing loudly, and tearing his clothing to shreds. It was with difficulty that he was brought back and placed in the ship's brig. Then Dr. Slade gave him a sleeping potion and he sank into a profound slumber. When he came out of his sleep, he said he had had some bad dreams, but he could not remember anything of the fire or of his attack on Andy.

"He is not to be trusted," said the ship's physician. "You can give him his liberty, but I advise that an eye be kept on him."

"We'll keep an eye on him, never fear," answered Captain Williamson, grimly.

Andy suffered very little from the attack of the frenzied sailor, and in a day or two he felt as well as ever.

"But I'll never trust Loggermore again," he told Chet. "After this he must keep his distance."

Day after day passed, and at last the Long Night came to an end. There was general rejoicing, and when Andy saw the sun once more he threw up his cap in his delight, and fairly danced a jig.

"It's grand, Chet!" he cried.

"Grand doesn't express it," was Chet's answer. "It's sublime! Andy, I don't know how you feel, but I don't want to go through another such spell of darkness."

"Nor I,--not for a hundred thousand dollars! Oh, a fellow doesn't know how good sunshine is until he can't have it!"

Preparations for the departure northward had been going on steadily, the Esquimaux getting their dogs and sledges in readiness, and Barwell Dawson and the others going over the supplies to be taken along. Of the supplies the greater portion was pemmican, over a thousand pounds being placed on the sledges. They also had bear meat, peas, beans, bacon, and a small quantity of coffee and tea, with salt, sugar, and pepper. They likewise carried a portable alcohol stove with some tins of alcohol, matches in water-tight boxes, and such cooking utensils as were absolutely necessary. Professor Jeffer had the scientific instruments, including a high-grade sextant, thermometer, and barometer, and also a good film camera with numerous rolls of films. Four shotguns were taken along, and three rifles, with a large quantity of ammunition. Dr. Slade carried his medicine case.

As soon as the Long Night was at an end, more Esquimaux put in an appearance, with their dogs and sledges. One of these was named Estankawak, and Barwell Dawson learned that he was considered one of the best dog-drivers in the Arctic region.

"Then we must have Estankawak by all means," said the explorer, and interviewed the fellow without delay. When he came back from the interview, his face showed his excitement.

"I have just heard great news!" he cried, to Professor Jeffer and Dr. Slade.

"What is it?" asked the professor, while the boys listened with interest.

"According to what this fellow Estankawak says, Dr. Frederick Cook reached the North Pole last Spring."

"Reached the North Pole!" exclaimed Professor Jeffer and Dr. Slade in a breath.

"Yes. He got there April 21, 1908, and he is now on his way back to the United States to break the news."

"Was the Esquimau able to give you any particulars?" questioned the doctor.

"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!"