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I had almost to shout to make my words heard above the roar of the tractor.īoth Zagero and Corazzini volunteered almost in the same breath, but I shook my head.īehind the heavy transport sled was towed the empty dog-sled, with the dogs on loose traces running astern of it, all except Balto who always ran free, coursing tirelessly backwards and forwards all night long, one moment far ahead of us, the next ranging out to one side, the next dropping astern, like some destroyer circling a straggling convoy by night.

Well, Mr Mahler, it looks as if the itinerary of your European trip is going to be upset a bit. Well, there it is, Jackstraw, I said resignedly.This is where one of us starts getting cold. Never been there in my life.1 There was a pause, and when his voice came again it was all but drowned in the sound of the engine. I could hear the machine-gun-like chatter of his teeth.Israel. He looked pale and ill, but he nodded silently, and Zagero said in a quiet voice:Corazzini and myself too high up on the list of suspects, huh? We counted twenty-eight of these flags altogether-about a dozen were missing-then, after a sudden dip in the land, completely lost them: whether they had blown away or just drifted under it was impossible to say. On a night such as this, with the moonlight flooding the ice-cap, these trail flags, a bright luminous orange in colour and mounted on aluminium poles stuck in snow beacons, were visible at a great distance, with never less than two and sometimes three in sight at the same time, the long glistening frost feathers stretching out from the poles sometimes twice the length of the flags themselves. On the way up from the coast, over four months previously, we had planted big marker flags at intervals of half a mile. I waited till Mahler had climbed down then dropped the canvas and walked round to the driver's seat. I wouldn't put either of you at the very foot, I said shortly.