“What’s that?”
“Keep your bay’net in your hand ready to dig down into the ice. Stopped me d’reckly, and that stopped you.”
“Yes, I’ll do so. A minute’s rest, and then we’ll go on again.”
“Make it two, sir. You sound as if you haven’t got your wind back.”
“I shall be all right directly, my lad. This is grand. I hope by daylight that we shall be in safety.”
“That’s right, sir. My! shouldn’t I have liked this when I was a youngster! Think we shall come back this way?”
“Possibly,” said Bracy.
“Be easy travelling, sir. Why, we could sit down on our heels and skim along on the nails of our boots, with nothing to do but steer.”
“Don’t talk, my lad,” said Bracy. “Now, forward once more.”
The journey was continued, and grew so laborious at last from the smoothness of the ice, which increased as the gradient grew heavier—the melted snow having run and made the surface more compact during the sunny noon; and at the end of another couple of hours the difficulty of getting on and up was so great that Bracy changed his course a little so as to lessen the ascent by taking it diagonally.