After a few moments he added, "Them no swan. Ice!"

There was an unpleasant ring in his voice as he spoke the last
word, and though Rod did not fully understand what significance the
discovery held for them he could not but observe that it occasioned
both of his comrades considerable anxiety. The cause was not long in
doubt. Another half hour of brisk paddling brought them to the edge of
a frozen field of ice that extended for a quarter of a mile from the
shore. In both directions it stretched beyond their vision. Wabi's
face was filled with dismay. Mukoki sat with his paddle across his
knees, uttering not a sound.

"What's the matter?" asked Rod. "Can't we make it?"

"Make it!" exclaimed Wabigoon. "Yes--perhaps to-morrow, or the next
day!"

"Do you mean to say we can't get over that ice?"

"That's just exactly the predicament we are in. The edge of that ice
is rotten."

The canoe had drifted alongside the ice, and Rod began pounding it
with his paddle. For a distance of two feet it broke off in chunks,
then became more firm.

"I believe that if we cut our way in for a canoe length or so it would
hold us," he declared.

Wabi reached for an ax.