"Now the fun begins. Here, take a squint, you hot-headed Gaul. The left-hand channel, man. Now she takes it!"
Courbertin saw the left-hand channel close, and then a great white barrier heave up and travel from island to island. The ice before them slowed down and came to rest. Then followed the instant rise of the river. Up it came in a swift rush, as though nothing short of the sky could stop it. As when they were first awakened, the cakes rubbed and slid inshore over the crest of the bank, the muddy water creeping in advance and marking the way.
"Mon Dieu! But this is not nice!"
"But magnificent, baron," Frona teased. "In the meanwhile you are getting your feet wet."
He retreated out of the water, and in time, for a small avalanche of cakes rattled down upon the place he had just left. The rising water had forced the ice up till it stood breast-high above the island like a wall.
"But it will go down soon when the jam breaks. See, even now it comes up not so swift. It has broken."
Frona was watching the barrier. "No, it hasn't," she denied.
"But the water no longer rises like a race-horse."
"Nor does it stop rising."
He was puzzled for the nonce. Then his face brightened. "Ah! I have it! Above, somewhere, there is another jam. Most excellent, is it not?"