One of Scoland's sailors, separated by some distance from his fellows, had climbed to an icy eminence near the west side of the basin. In the disturbance which followed the blasting of the channel and its closing, the ice where he stood had parted from the floe, and, his footing riven from under him, the poor fellow had been pitched into the dark water in the midst of the pounding drift. From the deck of the cruiser, Polaris heard his despairing cry, and, straining his eyes through the half twilight, saw his form silhouetted for an instant against the ice before he took the plunge. Straight and true leaped the son of the snows. One of the things civilization had taught him that he had never known before was the art of swimming. The staring gunners saw his white-clad figure reappear once many feet distant from the side of the cruiser, and then he was gone, tearing his way with powerful strokes through the swirl of ice and water. As fast as many willing hands could cast her loose, a boat was put out from the ship. The miners on the ice rushed to the spot where their comrade had disappeared. Across the drift one of the cruiser's searchlights swept a long finger of light. It played on sullen waves and heaving ice, but revealed no struggling swimmer. "That is the last of Janess, and the finish of this expedition," rapped out Scoland. Zenas Wright, standing at the rail of the ship beside him, groaned aloud. He did not see the fleeting, satisfied smile that accompanied the words of Scoland. A mist that was not of the air or sea rose and obscured his vision, and he wiped it away with his shaking old hand. The boat had nearly reached the edge of the basin when a strong white arm shot up, not ten feet away from it, and laid hold of a projection on one of the larger pieces of drift. A glad cry arose from floe and ship as, with a lusty thrashing of feet, Polaris emerged from the water and sprawled his length across the slippery surface. Again the shout, when it was seen that he dragged after him a smaller darker form. Parkerson, the sailor, was unconscious, having struck his head against floating ice in his fall. When the boat returned, and Polaris still bearing the senseless man in his arms climbed over the side, the cruiser's company cheered him as only American sailors can cheer a hardy deed bravely done. * * * * * Minos the king left the Judgment House shortly after the going of Analos, the high priest of Hephaistos. With the king went the nobles. "When ye have slept, come ye on the morrow to the palace," he bade them "There is much to be considered, wherein I would have your counsel."