108 THE WORLD OF ICE.

were probably the first to gaze upon those wondrous
visions of the Icy Regions, was tremendous. For a
long time neither of them could utter a word, and it
would be idle to attempt to transcribe the language
in which, at length, their excited feelings sought to
escape. It was not until their backs had been for
some time turned on the scene, and the cape near the
valley of red snow had completely shut it out from
view, that they could condescend to converse again in
their ordinary tones on ordinary subjects.

As they hastened back over the ice-belt at the foot
of the cliffs, a loud boom rang out in the distance and
rolled in solemn echoes along the shore.

“There goes a gun,” exclaimed Tom Singleton,
hastily pulling out his watch. “Hallo! do you know
what time it is?”

« Pretty late, I suppose. It was afternoon, J know,
when we started, and we must have been out a good
while now. What time is it?”

«Just two o'clock in the morning!”

“What! do you mean to say it was yesterday
when we started, and that we’ve been walking all
night, and got into to-morrow morning without
knowing it?”

“Fyen so, Fred. We have overshot our time, and
the captain is signalling us to make haste. He said
that he would not fire unless there seemed some
prospect of the ice moving, so we had better run,
unless we wish to be left behind; come along.”

They had not proceeded more than half-a-mile

.