“You’d better get out a suit of furs,” suggested the captain, for Washington had not yet donned these garments.  The colored man ran back into the cabin, got out the heaviest set he could find, and put it on.

The professor and the boys, together with the two helpers, were clothed to withstand the rigors of the arctic regions.  In a little while Washington was warmly dressed.  Then the professor led the way over the rail and down on the ice.

“Are we on land or sea?” asked Jack.

“It’s hard to say, but I think we are on land,” replied Amos Henderson.  “However, it doesn’t make much difference.  We are pretty far north.  The thing to do is to get the airship in shape as quickly as possible.”

“Can we help?” asked Mark.

“I hardly think so,” answered the old inventor.  “Washington and I understand every piece of machinery.  If we need any help we will call on you.  In the meanwhile you may take a look around if you wish.”

“I’d like to stretch my legs a bit,” spoke up old Andy.  “I ain’t used to stayin’ cramped up in a ship like I have been.  I’d like to see some of that big game you talked about, Professor.”

“Take your gun along, and you may spot a polar bear or a walrus,” suggested Mr. Henderson.  “Some fresh bear steak would not go badly at all.”

Delighted at the prospect at getting a shot Andy hastened after his gun.  Then after a hasty breakfast, with the two boys and the two helpers as companions, all warmly wrapped in furs, the hunter set forth across the fields of ice and snow.

It was a strange experience for all of them.  There was not a sign of life to be seen.  On every side there was nothing but the cold whiteness—­a coldness and a whiteness that was like death itself.  They walked on for more than a mile, and saw nothing but the desolate waste.

“There’s something!” called Jack in a hoarse whisper, coming to a halt and pointing to a small hill of ice in the distance.

“It’s a polar bear!” yelled Mark.  “He’s right behind the ice!”

“There are two of ’em!” cried Bill.  “This is no place for me!  Come on, Tom!”

“Hold still!  Let me get a shot!” pleaded the old hunter.

He could see the two animals plainly, now that his eyes had become used to the difference between their shaggy coats and the surrounding snow and ice.  Andy kneeled down and took careful aim.  A shot rang out, and one of the bears toppled over.

“Good shot!” cried Jack.

Once more the hunter pulled the trigger.  A dull click was the only response.  Andy quickly cocked the gun again, thinking it had missed fire.  Again the hammer fell with only a click.  The hunter quickly threw open the magazine.

“The chamber is empty!” he cried.  “I have fired my last shot!”

“And there comes the bear!” yelled Mark.  “He’s in a fit of rage!”

The fierce beast, in anger at the sight of his enemies, was coming toward the men and boys at top speed.  On the first alarm Bill and Tom had turned to flee.  Andy, swinging his gun by the muzzle, and loosening a long hunting knife in his belt, awaited the bear’s onslaught.  Mark and Jack were too surprised to run, and stood their ground, not knowing what to do.