"I'm thinkin' you don't go straight since the snow comes and you can't see the hill," he explained. "I'll be goin' ahead for a bit and you drive."
"All right," agreed Charley. "I can drive the team, and you'll know the way better in the snow."
Still the dogs were obstinate. They at once recognized the change in drivers, and took advantage of Charley's inexperience. Charley used the whip, but he could not handle it as effectively as a driver should, and the dogs gave little heed to it. They insisted upon taking an angle to the right of Toby's trail, and Charley found that he could not straighten them out upon the trail.
In desperation he ran forward to the side of the team, with the whip handle clubbed, to compel obedience. Sampson showed his fangs, and snapped at Charley's legs. This was a signal for open rebellion on the part of the whole team. They came to a standstill, and faced him, showing their fangs, and one or two of them sprang at him, but were held in leash by their traces.
Toby, looking behind, discovered the situation and came running to Charley's assistance. Taking the whip from Charley he quickly had the mutinous dogs reduced to sullen submission.
"I'll not be goin' ahead of un again," said Toby. "'Tis not helpin' to make they go any. The dogs act wonderful queer. They won't follow like they always has."
Toby urged them forward. They whined and whimpered, and at last some of them lay down, and Toby was compelled to beat them into action.
It was directly after this that they came to open water. The boys looked at each other in consternation.
"What'll we do?" asked Charley.
"I'm not knowin'," confessed Toby. "The ice has gone abroad from the shore, and we're driftin' out to sea."