"It must be a 'lead,'" exclaimed Katy. "That's the name arctic travellers give to a wide crack in the ice, by taking advantage of which, whenever it leads in the right direction, vessels are able to make their way through the 'packs' and 'fields.'"
"Probably their leading vessels through is where they get the name," Aleck remarked.
"Shouldn't wonder," said Tug; "but however well that plan may work in the arctic regions, we must cross this one."
Getting everything ready at the brink of the canal occupied fifteen minutes. Then, all the cargo easy to be moved having been taken out, the boat (sledge and all, as an experiment for this short trip) was launched without mishap. The sledge bobs hanging on her bottom weighted her down, and canted her so much, though the water was perfectly smooth, that it was necessary to make the trip very carefully. The young voyagers were thus taught that for any real navigation the boat must always be removed from the sledge. By noon, however, the last ferriage was successfully made, and they had repacked and were ready to go on again as soon as they had eaten a "bite." While despatching this, Katy suddenly exclaimed:
"Oh, I have never once thought about our visitors last night. I'll confess I was dreadfully frightened. How did you know they were owls?"
"Saw 'em," Tug replied, shortly, with his mouth full of dried beef. "Couldn't be anything else this time o' year."
"Where do they come from?"
"From 'way up north. Don't your arctic book say anything about 'em? Maybe it calls 'em the 'great white' or 'snowy' or 'Eskimo' owls."
"I think I remember something about them. The Eskimos have a superstitious fear of them, haven't they?"