Chapter 8.


The sailor on watch opened the outer door. There, plodding over
the ghastly white snow, were the officers of the _Wanderer_
approaching the hut. There, scattered under the merciless black
sky, were the crew, with the dogs and the sledges, waiting the
word which was to start them on their perilous and doubtful
journey.

Captain Helding of the _Wanderer_, accompanied by his officers,
entered the hut, in high spirits at the prospect of a change.
Behind them, lounging in slowly by himself, was a dark, sullen,
heavy-browed man. He neither spoke, nor offered his hand to
anybody: he was the one person present who seemed to be perfectly
indifferent to the fate in store for him. This was the man whom
his brother officers had nicknamed the Bear of the Expedition. In
other words--Richard Wardour.

Crayford advanced to welcome Captain Helding. Frank, remembering
the friendly reproof which he had just received, passed over the
other officers of the _Wanderer_, and made a special effort to be
civil to Crayford's friend.

"Good-morning, Mr. Wardour," he said. "We may congratulate each
other on the chance of leaving this horrible place."

"_You_ may think it horrible," Wardour retorted; "I like it."

"Like it? Good Heavens! why?"