ashing down into a dark blue gulf of ice below it.

"No chance of success _now_," said Benjamin Vane, gloomily.

"None wotsomediver," muttered Butterface, his broad black visage
absolutely elongated by sympathetic despair. For, you must know, as far
as his own feelings were concerned, sympathy alone influenced him.
Personally, he was supremely indifferent about reaching the North Pole.
In fact he did not believe in it at all, and made no scruple of saying
so, when asked, but he seldom volunteered his opinion, being an
extremely modest and polite man.

During these desponding remarks Captain Vane did not seem to be much
depressed.

"Anders," he said, turning abruptly to the interpreter, "ask Chingatok
what he thinks. Can we pass this barrier, and, if not, what would he
advise us to do?"

It was observed that the other Eskimos drew near with anxious looks to
hear the opinion of their chief.

Toolooha and Tekkona, however, seemed quite devoid of anxiety. They
evidently had perfect confidence in the giant, and poor little Oblooria
glanced up in the face of her friend as if to gather consolation from
her looks.

Chingatok, after a short pause, said:--

"The ice-mountains cannot be passed. The white men have not wings; they
cannot fly. They must return to land, and travel for many days to the
open water near the far-off land--there."

He pointed direct to the northward.

Captain Vane made no reply. He merely turned and gave orders that the
lashings of one of the large sledges which conveyed the baggage should
be cast loose. Selecting a box from this, he opened it, and took
therefrom a small instrument made partly of brass, partly of glass, and
partly of wood.

"You have often wondered, Benjy," he said, "what I meant to do with this
electrical machine. You shall soon see. Help me to arrange it, boy,
and do you, Leo, uncoil part of this copper wire. Here, Alf, carry this
little box to the foot of the berg, and lay it in front of yon blue
cavern."

"Which? That one close to the waterfall or--"

"No, the big cavern, just under the most solid part of the berg--the one
that seems to grow bluer and bluer until it becomes quite black in its
heart. And have a care, Alf. The box you carry is dangerous. Don't
let it fall. Lay it down gently, and come back at once. Anders," he
added, turning round, "let all the people go back with dogs and sledges
for a quarter of a mile."

There was something so peremp