Presently it was manifest that we were rapidly sinking.

"What's the matter?" I cried. "We seem to be going down."

"So we are," he replied quietly, "and I fear that we shall not go up
again very soon. The power is failing all the time. It will be pretty
hard to have to stop indefinitely in this frightful place, but I am
afraid that that is our destiny."

Lost and helpless in these mountains of ice and this world of gloom and
storm! The thought was too terrible to be entertained. Yet it was forced
into our minds even more by our leader's manner than by his words. Not
one of us failed to comprehend its meaning, and it was characteristic
that, while talkative Jack now said not a word, uncommunicative Henry
burst into a brief fury of denunciation. I was startled by the energy of
his words:

"Edmund Stonewall," he cried, agitating his arms, "you have brought me to
my death with your infernal invention! May you be--"

But he never finished the sentence. His face turned as white as a sheet,
and he sank in a heap upon the floor.

"Poor fellow," said Edmund, pityingly. "Would to God that he instead of
Church had remained at home. But I'll get him and all of us out of this
trouble; only give me a little time."

In a few minutes Jack and I had restored Henry to his senses, but he was
as weak as a child, and remained lying on one of the cushioned benches.
In the meantime the car descended until at last it rested upon the snow