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〃You'll have to leave me here； Lieutenant；〃 he said to Hansen。 His teeth were rattling with shock and cold。 〃We must be almost there now。 You can pick me up on the way back。〃
〃Don't talk rubbish；〃 Hansen said shortly。 〃You know damn well we'd never find you again。〃
〃Exactly；〃 Rawlings said。 His teeth were like Zabrinski's； stuttering away irregularly like an asthmatic machine gun。 He knelt on the ice to support the injured man's bulk。 〃No medals for morons。 It says so in the ship's articles。〃
〃But you'll never get to Zebra；〃 Zabrinski protested。 〃If you have to carry me〃
〃You heard what I said；〃 Hansen interrupted。 〃We're not leaving you。〃
〃The lieutenant is perfectly correct；〃 Rawlings agreed。 〃You aren't the hero type； Zabrinski。 You haven't got the face for it； for one thing。 Now shut up while I get some of this stuff off my back。〃
I finished tightening the splints and pulled mittens and fur gloves back on my silk…clad but already frozen hands。 We divided Zabrinski's load among the three of us； pulled goggles and snow masks back into position； hoisted Zabrinski to his one sound leg； turned into the wind； and went on our way again。 It would be truer to say that we staggered on our way again。
But now； at last and when we most needed it； luck was with us。 The ice cap stretched away beneath our feet as level and smooth as the surface of a frozen river。 No ridges； no hummocks； no crevasses； not even the tiny cracks one of which had crippled Zabrinski。 Just billiard…flat unbroken ice and not even slippery； for its surface had been scoured and abraded by the flying ice storm。
Each of us took turns at being lead man； the other two supporting a Zabrinski who hopped along in unplaining silence on one foot。 After maybe three hundred yards of this smooth ice； Hansen； who was in the lead at the moment； stopped so suddenly and unexpectedly that we bumped into him。
〃We're there！〃 he yelled above the wind。 〃We've made it。 We're there！ Can't you smell it？〃
〃Smell what？〃
〃Burnt fuel oil。 Burnt nibber。 Don't you get it？〃
I pulled down my snow mask； cupped my hands to my face； and sniffed cautiously。 One sniff was enough。 I hitched up my mask again； pulled Zabrinski's arm more tightly across my shoulder； and followed Hansen。
The smooth ice ended in another few feet。 The ice sloped up sharply to a level plateau； and it took the three of us all of what pitifully little strength remained to drag Zabrinski up after us。 The acrid smell of burning seemed to grow more powerful with every step we took。 I moved forward； away from the others； my back to the storm； goggles down； and sweeping the ice with semicircular movements of my flashlight。 The smell was strong enough now to make my nostrils wrinkle under the mask。 It seemed to be ing from directly ahead。 I turned around into the wind； protectively cupped hand over my eyes； and； as I did； my flashlight struck something hard and solid and metallic。 I lifted my flashlight and vaguely； through the driving ice； I could just make out the ghostly hooped…steel skeleton； ice…coated on the windward side； fire…charred on the leeward side； of what had once been a Nissen…shaped hut。
We had found Drift Ice Station Zebra。
I waited for the others to e up； guided them past the gaunt and burnt…out structure； then told them to turn backs to wind and lift their goggles。 For maybe ten seconds we surveyed the ruin in the beam of my flashlight。 No one said anything。 Then we turned around into the wind again。
Drift Station Zebra had consisted of eight separate huts； four in each of two parallel rows； thirty feet separating the two rows； twenty feet between each two huts in the rows this to minimize the hazard of fire spreading from hut to hut。 But the hazard hadn't been minimized enough。 No one could be blamed for that。 No one； except in the wildest flights of nightmarish imagination； could have envisaged what must indeed have happened： exploding tanks and thousands of gallons of blazing oil being driven through the night by a galeforce wind。 And； by a double inescapable irony； fire； without which human life on the polar ice cap cannot survive； is there the most dreaded enemy of all： for although the entire ice cap consists of water； frozen water； there is nothing that can melt that water and so put out the fire。 Except fire itself。 I wondered vaguely what had happened to the giant chemical fire extinguishers housed in every hut。
Eight huts； four in each row。 The first two on either side were pletely gutted。 No trace remained 9f the walls； which had been of two layers of weather…proofed bonded ply that had enclosed the insulation of shredded glass fiber and kapok； on all of them even the aluminum sheeted roofs had disappeared。 In one of the huts we could see charred and blackened generator machinery； ice…coated on the windward side； bent and twisted and melted almost out of recognition： one could only wonder at the furnace ferocity of the heat responsible。
The fifth hutthe third on the right…hand sidewas a gutted replica of the other four； the framing even more savagely twisted by the heat。 We were just turning away from this； supporting Zabrinski and too sick at heart even to speak to each other； when Rawlings called out something unintelligible。 I leaned closer to him and pulled back my parka hood。
〃A light！〃 he shouted。 〃A light。 Look； Docacross there！〃
And a light there was； a long； narrow； strangely white vertical strip of light from the hut opposite the charred wreck by which we stood。 Leaning sideways into the storm； we dragged Zabrinski across 'the intervening gap。 For the first time my flashlight showed something that was more than a bare framework of steel。 This was a hut。 A blackened； scorched； and twisted hut with a roughly nailed…on sheet of plywood where its solitary window had been； but nevertheless a hut。 The light was ing from a door standing just ajar at the sheltered end。 I laid my hand on the door； the one unscorched thing I'd seen so far in Drift Station Zebra。 The hinges creaked like a rusty gate in a cemetery at midnight and the door gave beneath my hand。 We went inside。
Suspended from a hook in the center of the ceiling； a hissing Coleman lamp threw its garish light； amplified by the glittering aluminum ceiling； over every corner and detail of that eighteen…by…ten hut。 A thick but transparent layer of ice sheathed the aluminum roof except for a three…foot circle directly above the lamp； and the ice spread from the ceiling down the plywood walls all the way to the floor。 The wooden floor； too； was covered with ice； except where the bodies of the men lay。 There may have been ice under them as well。 I couldn't tell。
My first thought； conviction rather； and one that struck at me with a heart…sapping sense of defeat； with a chill that even the polar storm outside had been unable to achieve； was that we had arrived too late。 I had seen many dead men in my life； I knew what dead men looked like； and now I was looking at just that many more。 Shapeless； huddled； lifeless forms lying under a shapeless mass of blankets； mackinaws； duffels and furs； I wouldn't have bet a cent on my chances of finding one heartbeat among the