“I guess that must be it,” admitted Andy; “but listen! some one is coming.”

Footsteps were heard approaching.  In a few seconds Dirola entered the ice chamber.

“I fix it!” she exclaimed.  “You must all go ’way quick.  The people want kill you, but me save.  Listen.  You climb up the slide me an’ boys come down.  Me bring sharp bones,” and she brought out from under her jacket several sharp bone picks.  “Make um steps in ice; climb up.  Go in little cave, where boys know.  There man wait for you wid sled an’ dogs.  He take you to airship.  But hurry, hurry!  People be after you soon when find you gone.  Me keep ’um back long what I can, but not for very long, so you go fast.”

“We must lose no time,” said the professor.  “This may be our last chance.  How can we thank you, Dirola?”

“Never mind talk, go!” exclaimed the Esquimaux queen.  “Must hurry!”

The captives were anxious enough to escape.  Led by Dirola they went out into the main cavern.  It was quite dark, as the sun had moved around so it no longer shone in the opening, and the mysterious lights had died away.  They were soon at the bottom of the slope by means of which the boys and the helpers had fallen into the ice cave.

“Now climb up!” Dirola commanded.  “Me give people big feast ’cause I back again.  They eat an’ no think of you for long time, but they chase when they find out.  Hurry!  Hurry!”

It was no easy task for the prisoners to make their way up the icy slope.  Each one was given a pair of short sharp-pointed heavy bones.  With these in their hands, using them much as a seal does his tusks, they managed to scramble up the slippery incline.  Soon they found themselves able to enter the cave the boys, Bill, Tom and Dirola had made, through the opening from which they had tumbled.

“Good-bye,” called Dirola to them, as they passed out of her sight.

“Good-bye,” all called back softly, from the roof of the cavern.  It was the last they were to see of their kind friend.

Outside of the little cave they found a native waiting with a large sled, to which twenty dogs were hitched.  The Esquimaux seemed to be watching for them, for he made a sign that they were to get on a sled.  No time was lost.  Dirola had evidently made her plans well and in haste.  The dog driver looked to see that his charges were safe, and then cracked his long whip.

Off went the sled at a swift pace, the animals tugging at their harness.  Not a native was in sight save the one driving the sled.  They were all probably at the feast Dirola had prepared in celebration of her home-coming.

“This is the first sled ride we’ve had when we were not tied on like so much cordwood,” observed Andy.  “Now we have a chance to observe the scenery.”

Faster and faster went the sled.  It was a calm clear cold day—­or it might have been night as far as time went, but the sun shone from a blue sky.  It was very cold, and the heavy furs made the adventurers none too warm.