and struck his unprotected head.

Lily's arms were torn from around Gronquist's waist as he vanished into

the darkness.  She thought she might be thrown clear.  The sled missed

her, crashing to a stop a few meters away, but the snowmobile had other

ideas.  Without Gronquist's hands on the clutch lever and throttle, it

came to a stop, teetering precariously at a forty-five-degree angle,

engine popping at idle.

It hung there for a brief moment, and then slowly heeled over to one

side, falling on Lily's legs from her hips down and pinning her

helplessly against the ice sheet.

Hoskins and Graham were not immediately aware of the accident behind

them, but they were about to run into a disaster of their own.  After

covering another two hundred meters, Graham turned, more out of

curiosity than intuition, to check how far they had outdistanced Lily

and Gronquist.  He was surprised to see their light hewn far to the

rear, stationary and pointing downward.

He pounded Hoskins's shoulder and shouted in his ear, "I think

something's happened to the others."

It had been Hoskins's original intention to find the depression in the

ice carved by the plane after it touched down and then follow it to the

final crash site.  His eyes were straining to penetrate the gloom beyond

when Graham interrupted his concentration.

The words came indistinct over the growl of the snowmobile's exhaust. He

twisted his head and shouted back at Graham.

"I can't hear you."

"Something's wrong."

Hoskins nodded in understanding and refocused his attention on the

terrain ahead.  The distraction was to cost them. Too late, he glimpsed

one of the troughs gouged by the landing gear almost as he was on it.

The snowmobile flew over the two-meter opening in the ice and became

airborne.  The weight of the two riders forced the nose to dip down and

it collided against the opposite wall with a sharp crack like the blast

of a pistol.  Fortunately for Hoskins and Graham, they were pitched over

the edge and onto the ice surface, their bodies tumbling crazily as if

they were cottonstuffed dolls thrown across a waxed floor.

Thirty seconds later a stunned Graham, moving like a ninety-year-old

man, stiffly lifted himself to his hands and knees.  He sat there dazed,

not fully aware of how he got there.  He heard a strange hissing sound

and looked around.

Hoskins was sitting in an upright position, doubled up in agony with

both hands tightly pressed against his groin.  He was sucking and

exhaling air through clenched teeth while rocking back and forth.

Graham removed his outer mitten and lightly touched his nose, It didn't

feel broken, but blood was flowing from the nostrils, forcing him to

breathe through his mouth.  A series of stretches indicated all joints

were still mobile, all limbs in place.  Not too surprising, considering

the heavy padding of his clothing.  He crawled over to Hoskins, whose

tortured hissing had become a string of mournful groans.