CHAPTER XXIX.
DRIFTING WITH THE ICE PACK.
Cabot had learned from Dr.Aspland of White's arrival at Battle Harbour two months before, with a leg so badly wrenched by slipping into an ice crevice that he had gone to the hospital for treatment, but had expected that he would long ere this have taken his departure.

At the same time White had, of course, given up all hope of ever again seeing the friend to whom he had become so deeply attached.

He had been terribly cut up over Cabot's disappearance on the night of the blizzard, and, with the faithful Yim, had spent days in searching for him.

They had gone back to the timber, only to find the Indian camp deserted, and that its recent occupants had made a hasty departure.
Finally they had given over the hopeless search and had sadly continued their southward journey.
Now to again behold Cabot alive and well filled poor White with such joyful amazement that for some minutes he could not frame an intelligent sentence.

He flew down to where the new arrival still struggled with his hauling gear, and flung himself so impulsively upon him that both rolled over in the snow.