from behind, gradually increasing in frequency and in fury. Soon it was strong enough to drive the sleds without any pulling from the car, and sometimes they were forced close under us, and even ahead of us, the natives hanging on in wild alarm.
Edmund managed to govern the motion of the car for a while, holding it back against the storm; but, as he confessed to us, this was a thing he had made no provision for, and eventually we became almost as helpless as a ship in a typhoon.
“I could easily cut loose from these fellows and run right out of this,” said Edmund, “but I’m not going to do it. I’ve taken them into my service, and I’m bound to look out for them. If there was room for them in the car it would be all right.
“By Jove! I’ve got it,” he added, a moment later. “I’ll fetch up the sleds, attach them under the car like the basket of a balloon, and carry them all! There’s plenty of power. It’s only room that’s wanting.”
It was no sooner said than done with Edmund. By this time we were getting into the ice. Great hummocks of it surrounded us, although there was nothing yet resembling the mountains that Edmund had spoken of, and we dropped the car down in the lee of an icy hill, where the force of the wind was broken. The sky overhead was still free from clouds, but ahead we could see them whirling and tumbling in mighty masses of vapor.
Lashing the two sleds together, we attached them about ten feet below the car with wire ropes. Then the natives were assembled, and Edmund made them fasten themselves securely. When everything was ready, we four entered the car and the power was turned on.
“We’ll rise straight up,” said Edmund, “until we are out of the wind, and then we’ll sail over the mountains and come down as nice as you please on the other side.”
It was a beautiful program, and we had complete confidence in our leader; but it didn’t work as we expected. Even his genius had met its match this time.
The Wind at Last Strikes Them
No sooner had we risen out of the protection of the ice hummock than the wind caught us. It was a blast of such power and ferocity as we had not yet encountered. In an instant the car was spinning like a top; and there away we rushed before the tempest, the sleds being banged against the car, like tassels whipping in a storm. It was a wonder of wonders that the creatures on them were not flung off, or killed, by the frequent impacts.
But, fortunately, Edmund had seen that they were securely fastened, and, as you know already, they could stand knocks like so many bears. In the course of twenty minutes we must have traveled twice as many miles, perfectly helpless to arrest our mad rush or to divert our course, pitched hither and thither, and sprawling on the floor half the time. The noise was awful, and nobody even tried to speak.
The shutters were open, and suddenly I saw through one of the windows a sight that I thought was surely my last.
The car seemed to be sweeping through a dense cloud of boiling vapors, when they split asunder before my eyes; and there, almost right against us, was a glittering precipice of pure ice, gleaming wickedly with blue flashes, and we were rushing at it as if we had been shot from a cannon!
There was a terrific shock, which I thought for a moment must have crushed the car like an eggshell, and then down we fell—down and down!
CHAPTER VI
Lost in the Crystal Mountains
If we had seen the danger earlier, and had not been so tumbled topsy-turvy by the pitching of the car in the wind, I suppose that Edmund would have prevented the collision, just as he had steered us away from some of the meteors, by set¬ ting up an “atomic reaction,” serving for a push. But there was no chance for that. The blow against the precipice was not, however, as severe as it had seemed to me, and the car was not smashed.
But the fall was terrible.
There was only one thing which saved us from destruction. At the base of the great cliff of solid ice, against which the wind had hurled the car, an immense deposit of snow had collected, and into this we fell. We were all tumbled in a heap, the car and the sleds being inextricably entangled with the wire ropes.
Fortunately, however, the stout windows were not broken; and after we had struggled to our feet, as the car lay on its side, Edmund managed to open the door. He made us put on our furs, but even with them we found the cold almost intolerable.
But the natives paid no attention to it. Not one of them was seriously hurt; and they were still attached to the sled, so firmly had they been bound under Edmund’s direction before we started from the hummock. We unloosed them, and then began to examine the situation.
Above us towered the icy precipice, disappearing in whirling clouds high overhead, and the wind drove square against it with the roar of Niagara. The air was filled with snow and ice-dust, and at times we could not see objects ten feet away. Our poor furry companions huddled together as soon as we got them upon their feet, and were of no use to themselves or to us.
Danger of Destruction Among the Ice Mountains
Well, we’ve got to get out of this mighty quick,” said Edmund. “Come, hustle now, and we’ll repair the ship.”
We got to work, Juba alone aiding us, and soon had the sleds out of the tangle and again properly attached to the car. Then we entered the latter, and Edmund fumbled a while with his machinery.
In the course of ten or fifteen minutes, he said that it was damaged, but would still work, and that we’d start as soon as we could replace the natives on the sleds. We got them together with a good deal of trouble, for they were frightened out of their wits; and would have run away, had they known where to go. But they had sense enough to understand that their safety depended entirely
