“Like enough, my son,” said Tregelly. “I’m ready for anything here. Sounds like the mountains playing at skittles.”
“She’s going at last,” cried a voice outside. “By jingo! it’s fine. Come and look.”
“It’s the ice breaking up,” cried Dallas excitedly.
“Then we will go and look,” said Tregelly, “though that chap wasn’t speaking to us.” And, no dressing being necessary, all hurried out, to find that the fettered Yukon was completely changed, the ice being all in motion, splitting up, grinding, and crushing, and with blocks being forced up one over the other till they toppled down with a roar, to help in breaking up those around.
The previous evening it would have been possible for a regiment to cross the river by climbing over and among the great blocks which were still frozen together, but now it would have been certain death for the most active man to attempt the first fifty yards.
Every one was out in the bright sunny morning watching the breaking up; and among the first they encountered were the judge, of the last night’s episode, and their friend the gold-finder, both of whom shook hands heartily, but made no allusion to the trial. “Good job for every one,” said the judge; “we shall soon be having boats up after this. We shall be clear here in a couple of days.”
“So soon?” said Dallas.
“Oh, yes,” replied his informant. “There’s a tremendous body of water let loose up above, and it runs under the ice, lifts it, and makes the ice break up; and once it is set in motion it is always grinding smaller, till, long before it reaches the sea, it has become powder, and then water again.”
“I say,” cried the miner, “there’s some one’s dog out yonder. He’s nipped by the legs, and it’s about all over with him, I should say.”
“Here, stop! What are you going to do?” cried the judge.