The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

12 that we were growing steadily colder. Heretofore, when one got too cold for anything like comfort he could go be- low, and making himself a hot cup of coffee, warm himself, leave another cup for the other, and so by seesawing back and forth remain at least in a. fairly comfortable condition. I doubt if anybody will blame us if at times now, even after our deter- mination to remain calm, we felt some- thing like despair stealing over us. Sleep ‘was out of the question. An hour’s slumber out on the surface of our fragment of ice’ would end in death. Naturally, conversation lagged. We kept a constant watch for a sail, but apparently this portion of the sea had never been discovered. I think I have made it clear—if not, I will do so now—that physically Ord- way was my superior. Not that I was weak, puny, or any more in fear of physical exertion than others, but Ord- way was a man of great muscular power. This being so, I felt that his suffer- ing might possibly not be as great as mine. Still, I remembered his shivering and grumbling in the Northbird under more favorable circumstances. The hours passed miserably. And the more miserable we became the more we tried to relieve our minds with light talk. “Dag,” said Ordway, “if you were sitting in a warm corner of the Wal- dorf, looking out at the passing women in their furs, and the men in their coats, and the motor-cars and taxis, and a smiling waiter came to you and asked what you’d have, what would it be?” “A dream,” I answered promptly. “ Anyway, I’d rather go to a bar- becue over in Fast New York during a political campaign. I could eat a whole quarter of beef without any effort.” Oh, the dreary, dismal, insufferable hours! The hunger that at first was merely discomfort, next horrible, final- ly dangerous. For, as we grew weak- THE ARGOSY. ’ er, our power of resistance to the cold became less. I did the best I could to exercise by. jumping up and down, flapping my arms, and walking gingerly on the in- clined surface. Ordway seemed to have lost his aptitude for that, and stood on our single fur, sweeping the ever-re- lentless horizon with his glass. When thirst assailed me I chewed ice. But I soon found this would not do. It was not the ice of sweet water, and the brackish taste produced a pe- culiar nausea. A tired goose from a flock settled down on our cake to rest. J picked up the fowling-piece. “Oh, what’s the use?” remarked Ordway. “ We can’t cook it.” I paid no attention to his rebuke. Some sort of insane hope sprang up in me, and I fired. Weak as I was, my aim was true. _ I laid the gun down and went after the goose. It was, perhaps, four hun- dred feet from where we had been standing. I had walked the distance, stooped, and rose again with the goose in my hand when my heart was brought to a sudden cessation of action. An- other rush of horror froze me, as I heard the report of the gun. Swinging round, I saw Ordway lying flat on the fur. CHAPTER VI. A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. A I couLD not, if the future of my soul depended on it, portray here in mere words what I felt at that moment. All the horror of what we had been through was forgotten. It was as nothing compared to what I felt sur- ging through me now. : I was-no longer cold. I forgot it was cold. My blood seemed to Yeap into furious action, and yet my heart appeared not to beat at all. My brain whirled and a thousand strains of music came from some _ invisible orchestra. CoOMmicbook CO