The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

LOOSING THE TEMPEST. I knew this was a sign of returning consciousness, but forebore question- ing him then. I brought fresh furs and wrapped him up snugly, believing the cabin a better place for him to re- cover than on the ice. The change in our condition was en- couraging. We were attached to what was still a great solid field of ice, again in possession of our supplies, and shel- tered on the north by the wall: beyond the raised floor I have mentioned previously. The grotto faced the south, and there was a pleasant warmth from the sun reflected against the ice. I again had the stove, and hunger was not to be feared. In my efforts to rescue Ordway my own discomfort had been forgotten, but now returned. I prepared a sub- stantial meal, cooking the goose I had shot. I opened a can of cranberries and one of pineapple. I made some more hot coffee, and baked some potatoes. I had more than the mere thought of satisfying hunger in this meal. I had no idea how long we might be com- pelled to remain on the berg. I knew our stock of canned vegetables and fruit, pemmican and bacon and canned beef, with which I had stocked the Northbird at the beginning of our Nor- way visit, would not last long. We would soon be reduced to a diet of fish, eked out with an occasional goose if they continued kind enough to visit us. And I knew that such a life would not continue long without the danger of scurvy. True, we had the privilege of boiling inelted ice over the fire for bathing, but even the cabin of the Northbird, with the thermometer about fifty below zero, was not inviting for a bath: ° I knew potatoes and cranberries and pineapples were all antiscorbutics, and thus it was with more than the mere idea of gormandizing that I prepared sO appetizing a meal. When it was about ready I visited Ordway. He lay with his eyes open looking around him. ) 15 “How do you feel, John?.” I asked. He looked at me curiously. “Say that again.” ‘““ How do you feel?” I repeated. He heaved a great sigh of relief. “It’s true then. I thought it was delirium.” “What was?” | “Why, this cabin of the Northbird. When I woke up I saw where I was, but remembered I had fallen on the broken-off piece of ice, and that the Northbird out of reach across the ice- filled channel. I thought this was a dream, but now you speak, I see it is reality. But I don’t understand. What happened? Did the two pieces come together again? Give me a drink.” I poured him out a drink, and, as my clothes were cracking with ice, took one myself. “No,” I said in reply to his question, “the pieces didn’t come together. I got the Northbird over and_ back. Never mind how. But there is some- thing I want to know. When I went to get the goose I heard the gun go off, and when I turned you were flat on the rug. I thought you—you had—”’ He grinned at my hesitation. “Why don’t you say it? You won’t hurt my feelings. You thought I had shot myself to escape a miserable death.” “ Well—I—” “ And desert you. Did you really?” “ I didn’t think of the desertion part. I thought you had taken the easiest way out. But I couldn't find any wound.” ‘Because I didn’t make any. It seems to me I remember hearing the gun go off myself. I remember before I fell I got suddenly dizzy and whirled round and round. I tried to call to you, but somehow I couldn’t make a loud sound. I suppose in my turnings I kicked the gun somehow and fired. it.” It was the only possible explanation, and so it remained. “Do you think you could go one of those Waldorf dinners you spoke of when there wasn’t a shrimp in sight?” CoOMmicbook CO