She nodded and pointed to the dunnage sack. Then she put on her fur coat
and hood and helped Peter sit up on the edge of the bed while Blake
opened the door again and made a low signal. Instantly Uppy and another
Eskimo came in. Blake led with the sack, and the two Eskimos carried
Peter. Dolores followed last, with the fingers of one little hand gripped
about the revolver in her pocket. Wapi hugged so close to her that she
could feel his body.

On the ice was a sledge without dogs. Peter was bundled on this, and the
Eskimos pulled him. Blake was still in the lead. Twenty minutes after
leaving the ship they pulled up beside his cabin.

There were two teams ready for the trail, one of six dogs, and another of
five, each watched over by an Eskimo. The visor of Dolores' hood kept
Blake from seeing how sharply she took in the situation. Under it her
eyes were ablaze. Her bare hand gripped her revolver, and if Peter could
have heard the beating of her heart, he would have gasped. But she was
cool, for all that. Swiftly and accurately she appraised Blake's
preparations. She observed that in the six-dog team, in spite of its
numerical superiority, the animals were more powerful than those in the
five-dog team. The Eskimos placed Peter on the six-dog sledge, and
Dolores helped to wrap him up warmly in the bearskins. Their dunnage sack
was tied on at Peter's feet. Not until then did she seem to notice the
five-dog sledge. She smiled at Blake. "We must be sure that in our
excitement we haven't forgotten something," she said, going over what was
on the sledge. "This is a tent, and here are plenty of warm
bearskins--and--and--" She looked up at Blake, who was watching her
silently. "If there is no timber for so long, Mr. Blake, shouldn't we
have a big bundle of kindling? And surely we should have meat for the
dogs!"