The chemical engine got into action without delay, and as the chemicals were forced down the hatchway the smoke became even thicker than before. But the tongues of flame died down, which the boys took for a good sign. Barwell Dawson was not on hand, he having gone to Boston on business. "If the vessel isn't saved, it will be an awful blow to him," was Andy's comment. The boys continued to work, and so did the sailors and the firemen. Thus an anxious quarter of an hour passed. Then the chief of the fire department happened to pass Chet. "Will the vessel be saved?" asked the lad. "Sure thing!" cried the old fire-fighter. "But it's a blaze hard to get at. If a man tried to go down there, he'd be smothered in a minute." Nevertheless, some of the hook and ladder men went into the engine room, and there chopped a hole through a bulkhead into the hold. Then more chemicals were used, and more water, and soon it was announced that the fire was under control. A little later the smoke cleared away, and the firemen went below, to put out any stray sparks. It was found that the total damage was confined to that portion of the hold where the painters had stored their paints and oils. Here the woodwork was much charred, and some beams and braces were burnt through. But Captain Williamson estimated that two hundred dollars would make everything as good as ever. "And that I'm going to get out of those painters," he went on, doggedly. "If they don't pay up, I'll have 'em arrested for gross carelessness." It may be said here that in the end the painters had to pay for the repairs, although they did so unwillingly. A telegram was sent to Mr. Dawson, and he came from Boston on the first train. He was much disturbed, and roundly berated the painter who had caused the conflagration. The man had been smoking, and the hunter gave orders that in the future they were to smoke on deck only, and use no matches whatever while below. The repairs made necessary by the fire were made within ten days, and then the task of getting the _Ice King_ ready for her long trip to the Arctic regions went forward as rapidly as ever. Mr. Dawson was a busy man, for he superintended the buying of everything, from fur clothing to pemmican. "Pemmican is the great thing in the Arctic regions," he explained one day, when Andy asked about the food. "It is nothing but the round of beef, cut into strips and dried, and then mixed with beef tallow and currants. It will keep for a long time, and is highly nutritious." "Is it appetizing?" asked Andy, with a grin. "It is when you are good and hungry, Andy. Besides, it is comparatively light, and easily carried. I don't know what explorers would do without it. Of course, as long as we can get fresh meat, we'll eat that. But we'll have to fall back on pemmican more or less. You'll find it more appetizing than seal blubber, such as the Esquimaux eat."