an hour ago. Now I guess we’re just as well off here as those people are in the boats; better, maybe, for we can at least move about and keep ourselves warm here, whereas—say! What’s that? See, over there! Isn’t it a rocket?”

As Dick looked in the direction toward which his companion pointed, he caught a momentary glimpse of a sudden faint irradiation in the sky, followed by the appearance of a minute cluster of tiny falling stars.

“Yes,” he replied, “that’s a rocket all right; and it means that the Bolivia or one of the other ships is coming up, and is firing rockets to let us know that help is at hand. But whatever she is, she is a long way off yet, and probably will not arrive for the next half-hour at least. So let me recommend another sprint or two across the ice just to keep the blood moving in our veins.”

“Correct again,” returned the American, as they started off at a brisk walk. “But—say!” he continued, turning to Dick and extending his hand, “we’ve been so darned busy getting ourselves warm that I haven’t yet found time to thank you for saving my life. But I’ll do it now—”

“Saving your life?” ejaculated Dick. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Oh yes, I guess you do,” answered the American. “Or, if you don’t, I calculate I can easily enlighten you. You saved my life, young man, when you took me in tow out there and navigated me to this desirable ice floe, and don’t you forget it. You may bet your bottom dollar that I shall not, and there’s my hand upon it, stranger. Now, let me introduce myself. I know who you are all right; you’re Mr Cavendish, late fifth officer of the unsinkable steamship Everest, very recently gone to the bottom. Isn’t that right?”

Dick acknowledged the truth of his companion’s statement, whereupon the latter resumed.

“Very good,” he said. “Now, I suppose you’ve never heard of Wilfrid Earle, of New York, the man who undertook to hunt his way from Cairo to the Cape—”

“Oh! but of course I have,” interrupted Dick. “I’ve read about you in the papers—and, come to think of it, I’ve seen your photograph also in the papers. Somehow your face seemed familiar when I noticed you a while ago on the boat deck—”

“Sure!” cut in the other. “That’s me—Wilfrid Earle, the eccentric New Yorker, all right, all right. Only arrived home from Cape Town little more than a fortnight ago, with a whole caravan load of skins, horns, tusks, and so on; and now I guess they’re about half a mile down, in the hull of the Everest. Gee! Guess you’re thinking me a heartless brute for talking so lightly about the awful thing that’s just happened; but, man, I’ve got to do it—or else go clean crazy with thinking about it. Or, better still, not think about it at all, since thinking about it won’t mend matters the least little bit. Say! what are all those little lights dotted about over there?”

“Oh!” answered Dick, “they are the lights of the Everest’s boats. Each boat was provided with a lantern, in order that they might keep together, and be the more easily found when the rescuing ships come up.”

“Ah!” returned Earle. “A very excellent arrangement. But say! what about us? We have no lantern. How are we going to make our whereabouts known? Those boats are a good mile away, and—”

“I don’t think we need worry very greatly about that,” answered Dick. “Naturally, the Bolivia—or whatever the coming craft may be—will pick up the people in the boats directly she arrives; but she’ll lower her own boats, too, and send them away to search the sea in the immediate neighbourhood for people who may be floating about in lifebuoys or cork jackets. There must be quite a number of them at no great distance from us—though how long they are likely to survive, drifting about in the ice-cold water, I should not like to say. But I think we may take it for granted that, once they have arrived, the rescuing ships will not quit the scene of the disaster until they have made quite sure that they have got all the survivors. They will wait about until daylight comes, without a shadow of doubt.”

“Good! it is comforting to hear you say that,” returned Earle. “You see, I don’t know much about the sea and sailor ways, and it occurred to me that those rescuing ships might take it for granted that when they had recovered the people from the boats, they would have done all that was possible—and quit. Gee! but it’s cold here on this ice. Lucky that there’s no wind, or we should be frozen stiff in half an hour. We’ll have another nip of brandy each; it’ll do us both good. Lucky thing, too, that I had the sense to fill the flask and slip it into my pocket when I knew what had happened to the ship. I sort of foresaw some such experience as this, and concluded that a drop of brandy might be a good thing to have about one’s person.”

They had their nip and felt all the better for it; but it was necessary for them to keep moving briskly in order to combat the numbing chill of their wet clothes, and they resumed their pacing to and fro across their narrow block of ice.

For a time their conversation was of a desultory and fragmentary character, for they were both intently watching the progress of the approaching steamer, which continued to send up rockets until the glow of the flames from her funnels became clearly visible. Then the display of rockets suddenly ceased, no doubt because—as Dick surmised—the lights of the boats had been sighted by the eager look-outs aboard her. Then her mast-head light came into view, followed, a little later, by her port and starboard side lights; and at length the dark, scarcely discernible blotch that represented her hull lengthened out suddenly, revealing a long triple tier of brightly gleaming ports; and a few seconds later the roar of steam escaping as her engines stopped, reached the two watchers on the ice.

“Hurrah!” shouted Dick, “she is among the boats at last and doubtless picking them up. Now we must keep our ears open listening for the sound of oars, or hailing, for I’ll bet that the skipper will have had his boats swung out ready for lowering, and their crews standing by, long ago.”

But nearly half an hour elapsed before the welcome sound of oars working in rowlocks faintly reached their ears, followed quickly by the shrill note of an officer’s whistle.

“At last!” breathed Dick, in tones of profound relief. “Now is our chance, Mr Earle. We will shout together: ‘Boat ahoy!’ Take the time from me. Now—one, two, three, Boat ahoy–y–oy!”

The long drawn out “ahoy” had scarcely died on their lips before it was answered by an equally long blast from the whistle, to which they responded by repeating the hail at brief intervals, each answering blast of the whistle telling them that the boat was drawing nearer, until at length the faint loom of the boat showed in the darkness, and a lantern was suddenly held high above a man’s head. Then they heard a voice exclaim:

“There they are, sir—two of ’em—on that block of ice!” And a minute later they were being carefully helped into the stern sheets of the boat, which was already floating deep with a load of motionless forms enwrapped in cork jackets. Whether they were living or dead it was impossible just then to say.

“Any more on the ice?” demanded the officer in charge of the boat. Then, following Dick’s reply in the negative, he continued: “Right! shove off, bow! pull port! Give way all! Now it’s us for the ship. Put your backs into it, lads. A minute or two may make all the difference between life and death for some of these poor chaps that we’ve fished up. Here, have a sip of brandy, you two. You must be frozen pretty nearly stiff.”

“No brandy, thanks—unless my friend here—Mr Cavendish, fifth officer of the Everest—would care to have another nip. But we’ve already