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The World of Ice by R. M. (Robert Michael) Ballantyne
page 125 of 284 (44%)
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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