The next day the sun was clouded, so that it was impossible for the professor to take any observations. But they knew they had not yet reached their goal, and so they pushed on, over ice that was hummocky, but not nearly as bad as it had been. "Hello!" cried Andy, about the middle of the afternoon. "What's that yonder?" He pointed to their left, where a dark object lay on the ice, half covered with loose snow. "Might as well see what it is," said Barwell Dawson, who was as curious as the others. So far, in that land of desolation, they had seen absolutely nothing but ice, snow, and open water. They moved to the spot and saw that the dark object was the carcass of a dog, frozen stiff. Beside the dog lay a board of a sledge. "Look!" exclaimed Barwell Dawson, as he held up the board. "Do you see what it says?" All looked at the bit of wood and saw, burnt upon it, the following: PEARY--1909 "It is something from the Peary expedition!" said Professor Jeffer. "He must have gotten up here ahead of us!" "It certainly looks that way," answered Barwell Dawson. "Well, he deserved to reach the Pole, after his many years of untiring efforts." Leaving the board as a silent monument, the four continued on their way northward. Again the wind was blowing from the west, and they calculated that it was on the increase. "With the thermometer down so low, if it blows very strong we'll be frozen stiff," declared Chet. "Why, a winter in Maine is a hothouse alongside of this!" The next day, owing to the wind, they made but scant progress. It was cloudy, yet just around noon the sun peeped from behind the clouds, and Professor Jeffer hurried to take an observation. Barwell Dawson gave him the correct time, and the old scientist quickly succeeded in making his computations. "Well, how do we stand?" asked Mr. Dawson, when Professor Jeffer had finished. "We are within twenty-two miles of the Pole," was the answer that thrilled the hearts of all. CHAPTER XXVIII THE TOP OF THE WORLD AT LAST "We'll get there tomorrow!" "If the weather permits, Andy." "Oh, we must get there, Chet! Just think of it--only twenty-two miles more! Why, it's nothing alongside of what we have already traveled." "Well, food is running very low." "Oh, I know that. Didn't I take an extra hole in my belt last night after supper? I feel as flat as a board." A day had been spent in camp, with the wind blowing furiously, and a fine, salt-like snow falling. They had tried to go on, but had covered less than half a mile when Barwell Dawson had called a halt. "It's no use," he had said, with a sigh. "We can't do anything in this wind. Let us keep our strength until it subsides." They had spent the day in mending the sledge, which was in danger of going to pieces, and in fixing up their foot coverings, which were woefully ragged.