brought on by exposure to the frigid water."

"I think he's ready for the big sting," said Giordino dryly. "Good,"

Knight nodded.  "You've got the right idea.  Just don't suggest anything

they have no reason to know."

Pitt opened the cargo door and gave a casual nod.  "Don't wait up.  Then

he stepped into the cold.

"Persistent cuss," Knight muttered.  "I didn't know Pitt was interested

in antiquities."

Giordino gazed through the cockpit window as Pitt set off across the

fjord.  Then he sighed.

"Neither did he."

The ice field was firm and flat, and Pitt made good time across the

fjord.  He scanned the ominous gray cloud ceiling rolling in from the

northwest.  The weather could change from bright sunshine to a blinding

blizzard within minutes and obliterate all landmarks.  He wasn't keen on

wandering lost without even a compass, and he increased his pace.

A pair of white gyrfalcons soared above him.  Seemingly immune to the

Arctic cold, they were a select group of birds that remained in the

north during the harsh winter.

Moving in a southerly direction, he crossed the shoreline and kept his

bearings on the smoke that rose above the archaeologists' hut.  The

distant and indistinct smudge appeared as though seen through the wrong

end of a telescope.

Pitt was only ten minutes away from the camp when the storm struck.  One

minute he could see nearly twenty kilometers, the next his visibility

was cut to less than five meters.

He started jogging, desperately hoping he was traveling in something

remotely resembling a straight line.  The horizontally driving snow came

against his left shoulder and he leaned into it slightly to compensate

for his drift.

The wind increased and beat against him until he could barely stand.  He

shuffled blindly forward, looking down at his feet, counting his

strides, his arms huddled about his head.  He knew it was impossible to

walk sightless without gradually wandering in a circle.  He was also

aware that he could walk past the archaeolgists' hut, missing it by a

few meters, and stumble on until he dropped from exhaustion.

Despite the high wind-chill factor, his heavy clothing kept him

reasonably warm, and he could tell by his heartbeat that he was not

unduly exerting himself.

Pitt paused when he calculated that he was in the approximate vicinity

of the hut.  He continued walking another thirty paces before stopping

again.

He turned to his right and moved over about three meters until he could

still see his footprints trailing off in the blowing snow from the

opposite direction.  Then he walked parallel to his original path,

mowing the lawn as if he was searching for an object beneath the sea. He

took about sixty steps before his old footprints faded and disappeared m

the snow.

He walked five lanes before he swung to his right again, repeating the

pattern until he was sure he had retraced the now obliterated center

line.  Then he picked up the grid again on the other side.  On the third