It was still blowing when they started again on their journey. But it was not nearly so bad as before, and the snow had ceased to come down. The sun, however, was still under the clouds, and the sky looked gray and sullen. "I don't know that I'd care to live here the year round," said Andy, with an attempt at humor. "It would be too hard to dig the potatoes." "Or go swimming," answered Chet. "Every time a fellow wanted a bath, he'd have to chop a hole in the ice." "Or tumble in a lead." "But, just the same, if we do reach the Pole, what a story we'll have to tell when we get back!" "We'll not be the first at the Pole." "We'll be the first boys at the Pole." "Right you are." They trudged on, occasionally urging the lagging dogs. The canines seemed to realize the loneliness of the situation, and occasionally stopped short, squatted down, and rent the air with dismal howlings. "They don't see any food and shelter ahead, and I don't blame them," said Barwell Dawson. By nightfall they calculated they had covered twelve miles. If that was true, only ten miles more separated them from their goal. "And we'll make that tomorrow or bust!" cried Andy. He was dead-tired, and ached in every limb, but a strange light shone in his eyes--the same fire that lit up the eyes of Barwell Dawson. In the morning the sky looked more forbidding than ever. But there was only a gentle breeze, and the thermometer registered forty-eight degrees,--several degrees warmer than it had been. "We'll travel until noon," announced Barwell Dawson. "Then we'll make camp, and wait until we can take an observation." They progressed almost in silence, the boys occasionally cracking the whip and urging the dogs. Barwell Dawson and Professor Jeffer were busy with their thoughts. Their fondest hopes seemed about to be realized. The boys thought of home. Would they ever see Maine again? "Seems like a lifetime since we left Pine Run!" remarked Chet once. "Two lifetimes," responded Andy. "One such trip as this is enough for me." The lads were footsore and weary to the last degree, but neither complained. They did not want to worry Barwell Dawson, and what would have been the use? He could not aid them. It was now a question of every one for himself. It was one o'clock when the explorer called a halt. On every hand was the field of ice and snow. But far ahead could be seen something which looked like a big iceberg. The sun was still under a cloud. "I think we have gone far enough," said Barwell Dawson. "We'll camp here, and wait until we can take an observation." No time was lost in gathering cakes of ice and building a fair-sized _igloo_. The boys worked with renewed interest. Had they really and truly reached the North Pole at last? "At the most we cannot be over a mile or two away from it," said the explorer.