CHAPTER XXIX.
DRIFTING WITH THE ICE PACK.
Cabot had learned from Dr. Aspland of White's arrival at Battle Harbour two months before, with a leg so badly wrenched by slipping into an ice crevice that he had gone to the hospital for treatment, but had expected that he would long ere this have taken his departure. At the same time White had, of course, given up all hope of ever again seeing the friend to whom he had become so deeply attached. He had been terribly cut up over Cabot's disappearance on the night of the blizzard, and, with the faithful Yim, had spent days in searching for him. They had gone back to the timber, only to find the Indian camp deserted, and that its recent occupants had made a hasty departure. Finally they had given over the hopeless search and had sadly continued their southward journey.
Now to again behold Cabot alive and well filled poor White with such joyful amazement that for some minutes he could not frame an intelligent sentence. He flew down to where the new arrival still struggled with his hauling gear, and flung himself so impulsively upon him that both rolled over in the snow. There, with gasping exclamations of delight, they wrestled themselves into a mood of comparative calmness that enabled them to regain their feet and begin to ask questions.
For some time White had been sufficiently recovered to resume his journey, had an opportunity offered for so doing, but, as none had come to him, he had earned his board by acting as nurse in the hospital. If he had been anxious to depart before, he was doubly so now that he had regained his comrade, and Cabot fully shared his impatience of further delay. But how they were to reach the coast of Newfoundland they could not imagine. It would still be many weeks before vessels of any kind could be expected at Battle Harbour, and they had no money with which to undertake the expensive journey by way of Quebec.
"If only the ocean would freeze over, we could walk home!" exclaimed Cabot one day, as the two friends sat gloomily discussing their prospects. And then that very thing came to pass.
A dog sledge arrived from Forteau, that same evening, bringing a wounded man to the hospital for treatment, and its driver reported the Strait of Belle Isle as being so solidly packed with ice that several persons had traversed it from shore to shore.
"If others have made the trip, why can't we?" cried Cabot.
"I am willing to try it, if you are," replied White, and by daylight of the following morning the impatient lads were on their way up the coast in search of the ice bridge to Newfoundland. Cabot had traded his electric flashlight for a supply of provisions sufficient to load his sled, which they took turns at hauling, and four days after leaving Battle Harbour they reached L'Anse au Loup. At that point the strait is only a dozen miles wide, and there, if anywhere, they could cross it. It was midday when they came to the winter huts of L'Anse au Loup, and they had intended remaining in one of them over night, but a short conversation with its owner caused them to change their plans.
"Yas, there be solid pack clear to ither side all right," he said, "but happen it 'll go out any time. Fust change o' wind 'll loose it, and one's to be looked for. Ah wouldn't resk it on no account mahself, but if Ah had it to do, Ah'd go in a hurry 'ithout wasting no time."