MY FAITHFUL COMPANIONS, “JACK” AND “FRANK.” ]
Thursday, February 18. A bright, sunny day. We have been busy rebuilding the snow entrance which was washed away by the recent thaw and rain. This completed, Mr. Peary got out his “ski” and began coasting down the hill back of the house. Astrup and the doctor joined in the sport, and even the huskies got their sleds and coasted on them. I spent the time in taking photographs of the boys, especially in their grotesque tumbles.
Friday, February 19. Another cloudy day; it seems as if the sun had not yet become accustomed to his new route and forgets us every other day. The old couple started for Netchiolumy this morning, and Ikwa went off with his sledge and our mikkies to bait fox-traps. After lunch Astrup and the doctor went on the cliffs to build three cairns from Cape Cleveland to Three-Mile Valley, expecting to get back by supper-time. At six o’clock they had not returned, but we were not alarmed, and put their supper away for them. About seven Ikwa came in, and reported that while passing Cape Cleveland he had heard the rumbling of a snow-slide down the steep sides of the cliffs, but it was too dark for him to see anything. At 9.15 the old couple returned, saying the snow was too deep for them to travel, and they are therefore going to stay here for a while. The truth is, they like it here, and think they had better let well enough alone. They said that in passing Cape Cleveland they heard Jack bark and Dr. Cook halloo to them. This, together with Ikwa’s story of the snow-slide and the non-appearance of the boys, made us think that something might have happened to them, so Mr. Peary and Gibson started for the Cape at once (about ten P. M.). When they reached it they heard Jack whining, crying, and barking by turns, and on going around the Cape they found quantities of loose snow evidently lately brought down from the cliffs, and in the middle of this heap a snow-shoe! Mr. Peary called and called, but the only answer received was Jack’s cry, nor would the animal come down. Mr. Peary at once started back to Redcliffe on almost a run—Gibson had all he could do to keep up with him—intending to procure ropes, sledges, sleeping-bags, alpenstocks, lanterns, etc., and to call out all the men in the settlement in order to begin at once a close search of the almost vertical cliffs, covered with ice and snow, where Jack was, and where he supposed the boys might also be, perhaps badly bruised and mangled, or overcome by the cold. In the meantime, to our great relief, both boys appeared at Redcliffe, exhausted and hungry. They said they had reached Cape Cleveland about 1.30 P. M. and started up the cliff; it was very steep and seemed unsafe for about one third of the way, but after that it appeared to be easy climbing. When, however, they had ascended three hundred feet, progress became increasingly difficult, the course being over round stones covered with ice, where it was impossible to cut steps. On looking down they found, to their horror, that it would be impossible to return, the cliff being too steep and slippery. Here Astrup dropped a snow-shoe—Ikwa’s snow-slide—which he had been using to punch steps in the snow and to scrape places among the icy stones for a foothold. This left them only the one which the doctor was using. Further progress was very slow; they knew that their steps had to be firm, for one misstep would send them to their doom. To add to their difficulty it began to grow dark, about four P. M., when they were not more than half-way up; poor Jack was unable to follow them any longer up the steep, icy wall, and, likewise unable to go down, he began to howl and cry piteously at being left. The howl of a dog under the most favorable circumstances is horrible. To the boys it sounded like their death-knell. They heard the old people pass along the bay, and called to them. Finally they reached the top, and then ran along to Mile Valley above the house and came down it to the bay, in this way missing Mr. Peary.