Hatteras, with folded arms, was gazing calmly at the corpse of his foe.
“It’s now my turn,” said Johnson; “it’s very well to have killed it, but there is no need of waiting till it’s frozen as hard as a stone, when teeth and knife will be useless for attacking it.”
Johnson began by skinning the bear, which was nearly as large as an ox; it was nine feet long and six feet in circumference; two huge tusks, three inches long, issued from his mouth. On opening him, nothing was found in his stomach but water; the bear had evidently eaten nothing for a long time; nevertheless, he was very fat, and he weighed more than fifteen hundred pounds; he was divided into four quarters, each one of which gave two hundred pounds of meat, and the hunters carried this flesh back to the snow-house, without forgetting the animal’s heart, which went on beating for three hours.
The others wanted to eat the meat raw, but the doctor bade them wait until it should be roasted. On entering the house he was struck by the great cold within it; he went up to the stove and found the fire out; the occupations as well as the excitement of the morning had made Johnson forget his customary duty. The doctor tried to rekindle the fire, but there was not even a spark lingering amid the cold ashes.
“Well, we must have patience!” he said to himself. He then went to the sledge to get some tinder, and asked Johnson for his steel, telling him that the fire had gone out. Johnson answered that it was his fault, and he put his hand in his pocket, where he usually kept it; he was surprised not to find it there. He felt in his other pockets with the same success; he went into the snow-house and examined carefully the covering under which he had slept in the previous night, but he could not find it.
“Well?” shouted the doctor.
Johnson came back, and stared at his companions.
“And haven’t you got the steel, Dr. Clawbonny?” he asked.
“No, Johnson.”
“Nor you, Captain?”
“No,” answered Hatteras.
“You have always carried it,” said the doctor.
“Well, I haven’t got it now—” murmured the old sailor, growing pale.
“Not got it!” shouted the doctor, who could not help trembling. There was no other steel, and the loss of this might bring with it terrible consequences.
“Hunt again!” said the doctor.
Johnson ran to the piece of ice behind which he had watched the bear, then to the place of combat, where he had cut him up; but he could not find anything. He returned in despair. Hatteras looked at him without a word of reproach.
“This is serious,” he said to the doctor.
“Yes,” the latter answered.
“We have not even an instrument, a glass from which we might take the lens to get fire by means of it!”
“I know it,” answered the doctor; “and that is a great pity, because the rays of the sun are strong enough to kindle tinder.”
“Well,” answered Hatteras, “we must satisfy our hunger with this raw meat; then we shall resume our march and we shall try to reach the ship.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, buried in reflection; “yes, we could do that if we had to. Why not? We might try—”
“What are you thinking of?” asked Hatteras.
“An idea which has just occurred to me—”
“An idea,” said Johnson; “one of your ideas! Then we are saved!”
“It’s a question,” answered the doctor, “whether it will succeed.”
“What is your plan?” said Hatteras.
“We have no lens; well, we will make one.”
“How?” asked Johnson.
“With a piece of ice which we shall cut out.”
“Why, do you think—”
“Why not? We want to make the sun’s rays converge to a common focus, and ice will do as much good as crystal.”
“Is it possible?” asked Johnson.
“Yes, only I should prefer fresh to salt water; it is more transparent, and harder.”
“But, if I am not mistaken,” said Johnson, pointing to a hummock a hundred paces distant, “that dark green block shows—”
“You are right; come, my friends; bring your hatchet, Johnson.”
The three men went towards the block which, as they supposed, was formed of fresh water.
The doctor had a piece, a foot in diameter, cut through, and he began to smooth it with the hatchet; then he equalized the surface still further with his knife; then he polished it with his hand, and he obtained soon a lens as transparent as if it had been made of the most magnificent crystal. Then he returned to the snow-house, where he took a piece of tinder and began his experiment. The sun was shining brightly; the doctor held the lens so that the rays should be focused on the tinder, which took fire in a few seconds.
“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried Johnson, who could hardly trust his eyes. “Oh Doctor, Doctor!”
The old sailor could not restrain his joy; he was coming and going like a madman. The doctor had returned to the house; a few minutes later the stove was roaring, and soon a delicious odor of cooking aroused Bell from his torpor. It may be easily imagined how the feast was enjoyed; still the doctor advised his friends to partake in moderation; he set an example, and while eating he again began to talk.
“Today is a lucky day,” he said; “we have food enough for our journey. But we mustn’t fall asleep in the delights of Capua, and we’d better start out again.”
“We can’t be more than forty-eight hours from the Porpoise,” said Altamont, who could now begin to speak once more.
“I hope,” said the doctor, smiling, “that we shall find material for a fire there.”
“Yes,” said the American.
“For, if my ice lens is good,” continued the doctor, “there would still be something desired on cloudy days, and there are many of them less than four degrees from the Pole.”
“True!” said Altamont with a sigh, “less than four degrees! My ship has gone nearer than any yet has been!”
“Forward!” said Hatteras, quickly.
“Forward!” repeated the doctor, gazing uneasily at the
