The World of Ice by R. M. (Robert Michael) Ballantyne
page 125 of 284 (44%)
page 125 of 284 (44%)
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purty crature it is. Now, isn't it, West? Stop, then, won't ye (to the
restive dogs); ye've broke my heart entirely, and the whip's tied up into iver so many knots. Arrah, Meetuck! ye may drive yer coach yerself for me, you may; I've had more nor enough of it." In a few minutes the deer and the hare were lashed to the sledge--which the Irishman asserted was a great improvement, inasmuch as the carcass of the former made an excellent seat--and they were off 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. Seizing 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 example, 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 crack of little more than two feet across. Meetuck 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 |
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