gully to the river, where they found a trail, glass-hard beneath its downy
covering. A cold breath sucked up from the sea; ahead they saw the ragged
ice up-ended by the tide, but their course was well marked now, so they
swung themselves upon the sled, while the dogs shook off their lethargy
and broke into their pattering, tireless wolf-trot.

At length they came to a point where the trail divided, one branch leading
off at right angles from the shore and penetrating the hummocks that
marked the tide limit. Evidently it led to the village which they knew lay
somewhere on the farther side, hidden by a mile or more of sifting snow,
so they altered their course and bore out upon the river.

The going here was so rough that both men leaped from their seats and ran
beside the sled, one at the front, the other guiding it from the rear. Up
and down over the ridges the trail led, winding through the frozen
inequalities, the dogs never breaking their tireless trot. They mounted a
swelling ridge and rushed down to the level river ice beyond, but as they
did so they felt their footing sag beneath them, heard a shivering creak
on every side, and, before they could do more than cry out warningly, saw
water rising about the sled-runners. The momentum of the heavy sledge,
together with the speed of the racing dogs, forced them out upon the
treacherous ice before they could check their speed. Emerson shouted, the
dogs leaped, but with a crash the ice gave way, and for a moment the water
closed over him.

Clinging to the sled to save himself, his weight slowed it down, and the
dogs stopped. "Fingerless" Fraser broke through in turn, gasping as the
icy water rose to his armpits. Slowly at first the sled sank, till it
floated half submerged, and this spot which a moment before had seemed so
safe and solid became now a churning tangle of broken fragments, men and