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
look of self-satisfied placidity.
"Look out, Meetuck--pull up!" cried Fred in some alarm; but the Esquimau
paid no attention.
"O morther! we're gone now for iver," exclaimed O'Riley, shutting his
eyes and clenching his teeth as he laid fast hold of the sides of the
sledge.
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