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The pursuing Esquimaux seemed aware that their former captives had observed them, and urged their dog teams to greater speed. It was indeed a race. Dirola's animals had been urged almost to their limit, and were now lagging. Voice and whip no longer served to send them forward. Several of the beasts were limping. "There ship!" cried the woman suddenly.
Then came the visit of the white men, including Andre, whose strange message the adventurers had found. He was driven, with his companions, from the land. Then the Esquimaux of Dirola's tribe had been attacked by others living farther south. A great battle had been fought and the queen and others were taken prisoners. Dirola had been held captive until the advent of the Monarch.
"Maybe she's after a rabbit," observed Bill. "I'd like a good hot rabbit stew myself." Dirola's hands, encased in heavy fur gloves, made the snow fly. In a little while she held up a, dark mass of what looked like seaweed. "Eat! Um good!" she exclaimed. "I guess it's some kind of moss that the people up north eat," remarked Tom. "I remember reading something about it once.
They'll carry us back to the ice cave and eat us alive this time!" "These are not the same ones!" cried the professor. "We are hundreds of miles from the ice cave." "Then these are the ones the mysterious message was about," said Andy, "and we had better be on our guard!" "Perhaps these are Dirola's friends," ventured Amos Henderson. "If they are I wish we had her here to intercede for us."
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