THE WORLD OF ICE. 147

again at full gallop over the floes. They travelled
without further interruption or mishap, until they
drew near to the open water, when suddenly they
came upon a deep fissure or crack in the ice about
four feet wide, with water in the bottom. Here they
came to a dead stop.

“Arrah! what's to be done now?” inquired
O'Riley.

“Indeed I don’t know,” replied Fred, looking toward
Meetuck for advice.

“Hup, cut-up ice, mush, hurroo!” said that fat
individual. Fortunately he followed his advice with
a practical illustration of its meaning. Selzing an
axe, he ran to the nearest hummock, and chopping it
down, rolled the heaviest pieces he could move into
the chasm. The others followed his cxample, and in
the course of an hour the place was bridged across,
and the sledge passed over. But the dogs required
a good deal of coaxing to get them to trust to this
rude bridge, which their sagacity taught them was
not to be depended on like the works of nature.

A quarter of an hour’s drive brought them to a
place where there was another erack of little more
than two fect across. Mectuck stretched his neck
and took a steady look at this as they approached it
at full gallop. Being apparently satisfied with his
scrutiny, he resumed his look of self-satisfied placidity.

“Look out, Meetuck—pull up!” eried Fred in
some alarm: but the Esquimau paid no attention,

1

“QO morther! we're gone now for iver,” exclaimed