Chapter XXI

RESCUED

"LESLIE," exclaimed Ranworth. "Can you hear that?"

"Hear what, sir?" asked the lad.

Ranworth was almost the last of the injured men to be brought in by means of the sleigh. He was still incapable of moving, and spent the whole of his time lying in the shelter.

"It's a ship's siren," declared Ranworth with conviction.

Leslie listened intently, but could not agree with his patient's declaration.

"I'll go outside and listen, sir," he said.

"Guy," he whispered, as he joined his chum, who was busily engaged in teaching the cub to perform simple tricks, "Mr. Ranworth says he can hear a steamer's siren. Can you?"

Guy listened intently.

"Not a sound," he replied.

Somewhat disheartened, Leslie returned to the hut, and in answer to Ranworth's mute inquiry he shook his head.

"But I heard it distinctly while you were outside," he maintained. "Ask the men if they heard anything."

Leslie did so, somewhat reluctantly, since he felt certain that it was only raising false hopes. One and all were agreed that Ranworth was imagining the noise.

"And I don't like the idea of having to disillusion him," said the lad ruefully.

A quarter of an hour passed. The injured man still persisted in his belief.

Suddenly there was a lull in the wind. Borne faintly through the clear air came the dull booming of a steamship's whistle.

"Hurrah!" shouted the men in chorus. "That's the Polarity. We're saved."

"She's ten miles off if she's a yard," declared Johnson. "It will take her an hour at least to come up to the anchorage."

The overjoyed men were on the tiptoe of expectancy. A quarter of an hour went by, but no further signals came from the approaching vessel. Perhaps, after all——

The merest suggestion of disappointed hopes appalled them.

Again, this time ever so much louder, the welcome wail of the siren was heard. This time there could be no doubt. The ship, whatever she was, was ascending the inlet.

Soon the waiting men could detect the thud of the engines and the thrash of the powerful propellers. Then, gliding majestically round the last bend, came the Polarity. Her engines were reversed, and as the ship gathered sternway her anchor plunged with a sudden splash to the bed of the inlet.

"All safe?" shouted Captain Stormleigh through a megaphone.

"But two, sir," replied O'Donovan.

The cheers that were on the lips of the rescuing men were choked. In the midst of the fitting climax to their endeavour they realised that the perils of the Arctic had claimed their toll.

Two hours later, Claude Ranworth, Leslie, and Guy were standing by the side of John Ranworth's cot. The Polarity had weighed anchor once more, and Nova Cania was already fading in the mists of the Arctic.

"I suppose you know, old man, that we lost your precious platinum?" asked John Ranworth.

His brother nodded his head.

"Yes," he replied. "But it's of little consequence now. I've come to the conclusion that the game isn't worth the candle. But, thanks to your efforts, under Providence, Jack, we're safe and sound and homeward bound."

"Aye," agreed John Ranworth, "and not forgetting our young friends Leslie and Guy. We'll have to fit out another expedition, Claude, to retrieve our lost fortunes—but it won't be the Arctic next time. Central Africa's the place, and when we do decide there are two persons I shall ask to accompany us—Leslie Ward and Guy Anderson."

"Thank you, sir," replied the chums in one breath.

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