The Boy Aviators' Polar Dash Part 33

"We are now not more than one hundred and fifty miles from the spot in which Captain Hazzard believes the s.h.i.+p is ice-bound," announced Frank that night as they turned in inside the snugly curtained cha.s.sis.

Sleep that night was fitful. The thought of the discovery of which they might be even then on the brink precluded all thought of sound sleep. Even the usually calm professor was excited. He hoped to find some strange creatures amid the mouldering timbers of the Viking s.h.i.+p if they ever found her.

Dawn found the adventurers up and busily disposing of breakfast. As soon as possible the Golden Eagle rose once more and penetrated further into the unknown on her search. Several wireless messages were sent out that day and the camp managed to "catch" every one of them.

The wireless seemed to work better in that dry, cold air than in the humid atmosphere of the northern climes.

The character of the country had not changed. Deep gullies still scarred the white hills that fringed the barrier, but not one of these yielded the secret the boys had come so far to unravel.

"I'm beginning to think this is a wild goose chase," began Billy, as at noon Frank landed, took his bearings, and then announced that they were within a few minutes of the spot in which the s.h.i.+p ought to lie.

"She seems as elusive as the fur-bearing pollywog," announced the professor.

"You still believe there is such a creature?" asked Harry.

"Professor Tapper says so," was the reply, "I must believe it. I will search everywhere till I can find it."

"I think he was mistaken," said Billy, "I can't imagine what such a creature could look like."

"You may think he was mistaken," rejoined the professor, "but I do not. Professor Tapper is never wrong."

"But suppose you cannot find such an animal?"

"If I don't find one before we leave the South Polar regions, then, and not till then, will I believe that he was mistaken," returned the man of science with considerable dignity.

This colloquy took place while they were getting ready to reascend after a hasty lunch and was interrupted by a sudden cry from Frank, who had been gazing about while the others talked.

"What's that sticking above the snow hill yonder?" he exclaimed, pointing to a spot where a deep gully "valleyed" the hills at a spot not very far from where they stood.

"It looks like the stump of a tree," observed the professor, squinting through his spectacles.

"Or-or-the mast of a s.h.i.+p," quavered Harry, trembling with excitement.

"It's the Viking s.h.i.+p--hurray!"

"Don't go so fast," said Frank, though his voice shook, "it may be nothing but a plank set up there by some former explorer, but it certainly does look like the top of a mast."

"The best way is to go and see," suggested the professor, whose calm alone remained unruffled.

The distance between the boys and the object that had excited their attention was not considerable and the snow was smooth and unmarked by impa.s.sable gullies. The professor's suggestion was therefore at once adopted and the young adventurers were soon on their way across the white expanse which luckily was frozen hard and not difficult to traverse.

The boys all talked in excited tones as they made their way forward.

If the object sticking above the gully's edge proved actually to be a mast it was in all probability a spar of the s.h.i.+p they sought. The thought put new life into every one and they hurried forward over the hard snow at their swiftest pace.

The professor was in the lead, talking away at a great rate, his long legs opening and shutting like scissor blades.

"Perhaps I may find a fur-bearing pollywog after all," he cried; "if you boys have found your s.h.i.+p surely it is reasonable to suppose that I can find my pollywog?"

"Wouldn't you rather find a Viking s.h.i.+p filled with gold and ivory, and frozen in the ice for hundreds of years, than an old fur-bearing pollywog?" demanded Billy.

"I would not," rejoined the professor with much dignity; "the one is only of a pa.s.sing interest to science and a curious public. The other is an achievement that will go ringing down the corridors of time making famous the name of the man who braved with his life the rigors of the South Polar regions to bring back alive a specimen of the strange creature whose existence was surmised by Professor Thomas Tapper, A.M., F.R.G.S., M.Z., and F.O.X.I.--Ow! Great Heavens!"

As the professor uttered this exclamation an amazing thing happened.

The snow seemed to open under his feet and with a cry of real terror which was echoed by the boys, who a second before had been listening with somewhat amused faces to his oratory, he vanished as utterly as if the earth had swallowed him--which it seemed it had indeed.

"The professor has fallen into a creva.s.se!" shouted Frank, who was the first of the group to realize what had occurred.

Billy and Harry were darting forward toward the hole in the snow through which the scientist had vanished when a sharp cry from the elder boy stopped them.

"Don't go a step further," he cried.

"Why not,--the professor is down that hole," cried Harry, "we must do something to save him."

"You can do more by keeping cool-headed than any other way," rejoined Frank. "A creva.s.se, into one of which the professor has fallen, is not 'a hole' as you call it, but a long rift in the earth above which snow has drifted. Sometimes they are so covered up that persons can cross in safety, at other times the snow 'bridge' gives way under their weight and they are precipitated into the creva.s.se itself,--an ice-walled chasm."

"Then we may never get the professor out," cried Billy in dismay. "How deep is that creva.s.se likely to be?"

"Perhaps only ten or twenty feet. Perhaps several hundred," was the alarming reply.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE VIKING'S s.h.i.+P.

Suddenly, from the depths as it seemed, there came a faint cry.

It was the professor's voice feebly calling for aid. Frank hastened forward but dared not venture too near the edge of the hole through which the scientist had vanished.

"Are you hurt, professor?" he cried, eagerly, and hung on the answer.

"No," came back the reply, "not much, but I can't hold on much longer."

"Are you at the bottom of the chasm?"

"No, I am clinging to a ledge. It is very slippery and if I should fall it would be to the bottom of the rift, which seems several hundred feet deep."

Even in his extreme danger the professor seemed cool and Frank took heart from him.

Luckily they had with them a coil of rope brought from the Golden Eagle for the purpose of lowering one of their number over the edge of the gulf onto the Viking s.h.i.+p--if the mast they had seen proved to be hers.

It was the work of a moment to form a loop in this and then Frank hailed the professor once more.

"We are going to lower a rope to you. Can you grasp it?"

"I think so. I'll try," came up the almost inaudible response.

The rope was lowered over the edge of the rift and soon to their joy the boys felt it jerked this way and that as the professor caught it.