Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-06-12
BY HERBERT D. WARD.

neck until he was well nigh in the last
stages of sutfocation.
At an elevation OF 500 feet the ship started
ahead.
"But where?" cried Royal
''To the Pole, you donkeyp' yelled Jack
Hardy. This epithet was pardoned him.
Slowly the great ship forged ahead.
'Is it safe to stop again?" asked ROYAL.
"Why?" answered Prot. Wilder.
''To take them in.''
"We won't have to. I can hold her
within 20 feet Of the ground. They can shin
up the rope ladder"
"But suppose they can'tr' interected
Jack Hardy. He was examining every
square inch of space with the telescope.
"They'll wave fast enough You can see
them easy enough" grunted Royal.
But Jack soberly replied. Perhaps
not" He did not relax his eyes from the
powerful glass.
The ice-scape is horrible thing at the
extreme North. 1t is the CONCEALED desert
of the world. 1t is what the moon must be;
a nightmare of unbearable desolation, q
maddening succession of freezing monoton-
les The most experienced explorer may
lose his bearings and himself among these
foes and chasms and caves of ice, of like
form and hostility. 1t was not an easy
thing for the Aeropole, under the guidance
of three astronomical ignoramuses to get to
the Pole, or even to blunder in the right
direction.
The Professor had vague idea of where
he ought to go, and the other two were too
delighted at being once more ahoat in the
air to realize that they were doing the most
disastrous thing they could for the interest
of their absent comrades.
Their orders and their common sense
should have kept them at what might be
called their moorings. Thence they should
have sent party of rescue; or there they
should have waited until the Sergeant had
turned up. How could they hope to find
two men in such vast area of glittering
ice?
The Professor, radiant at the recovery Of
his handiwork. sat in his room regulating
the speed of his ship, and following the di-
rections of his two advisers. Whenever
Royal saw a sin ,ularly deep shadow, he
said: "Let her go little to the leftl Sop
Or, "Now hold her slow, but keep her on
the wingp'
For two hours they zigzagged northward.
"Try her out that way," said Royal,
pointing with his finger toward ravine at
the right, several miles ahead, perhaps
that's easier going; and they struck back
that way"
The steady machinery carried them on
the three men looked for the waits.
At that moment the Sergeant mad with
thirst, dying with hunger, numb with cold,
beaten BY the fates he had evoked, turned
his uncovered, sightless eyes to heaven, as
Ii searching for the electric arship, or per-
haps for the spirit of his old companion.
His eyes, by years of exposure to the
glare of northern ice, were naturally weak,
i L. ~A.1 l. IL
In the lurch OF desperate leap the spec
tacles had fallen into a deep crevasse and
had been lost. Sun-blindness smote him in
three DAYS. He could not see. He hardly
dared to feel his way. If he could only
have died in a fair struggle! But to be
conquered so tamely was more than his
spirit could bear. With unerring instinct,
and with unparalleled endurance, he con-
tinued his sightless march for 48 hours.
But how could he find the cache where his
reserve food and spirits were hidden? He
soon ate the little which he carried, ate the
alcohol as DeLong did, and then ate his
coat. The matches had been exhausted long
ago. The instruments and the tin case con-
tanning the invaluable records and observa-
tions had been scattered by the way. He was
too weak to carry them. In the Arctic re-
gions death marches are trailed by useless
valuables. An ounce of pemmican, gill Of
lime water are worth mountain of dia-
monds. He had reserved the ill-fated tu-
tors watch, and paper on which he had
written with blind hand the hideous de-
tails of his disaster in laeonic, heroic
style.
Now, once more, he stood up to his full
height. This exertion took the remnant Of
his strength. With low moan he tried to
open his swollen lids with his hand, so that
perchance he might see. 1t was vain at
tempt He fell back, and as he touched the
ice, its cold smote him to the heart.
With one hand thrown over his head, as il
warding off this retributive blow from the
siren of the North, the memory of past mis-
cries fed from the heart OF the hero, and in
their place sweet faces and the sound Of
pleasant instruments lured him to rest
To BE Continued Nert Sunday