The feet of the dogs went faster and faster until they pattered on the hard surface of the snow like rain. Round came the long whip, as O’Riley said, “like the shot of a young cannon,” and the next moment they were across, skimming over the ice on the other side like the wind.
It happened that there had been a break in the ice at this point on the previous night, and the floes had been cemented by a sheet of ice only an inch thick. Upon this, to the consternation even of Meetuck himself, they now passed, and in a moment, ere they were aware, they were passing over a smooth, black surface that undulated beneath them like the waves of the sea and crackled fearfully. There was nothing for it but to go on. A moment’s halt would have allowed the sledge to break through and leave them struggling in the water. There was no time for remark. Each man held his breath. Meetuck sent the heavy lash with a tremendous crack over the backs of the whole team, but just as they neared the solid floe, the left runner broke through. In a moment the men flung themselves horizontally upon their breasts, and scrambled over the smooth surface until they gained the white ice, while the sledge and the dogs nearest to it were sinking. One vigorous pull, however, by dogs and men together, dragged the sledge upon the solid floe, even before the things in it had got wet.
“Safe!” cried Fred, as he hauled on the sledge rope to drag it farther out of danger.
“So we are,” replied O’Riley, breathing very hard, “and it’s meself thought to have had a wet skin at this minute. Come, West, lind a hand to fix the dogs, will ye?”
A few minutes sufficed to put all to rights and enable them to start afresh. Being now in the neighbourhood of dangerous ice, they advanced with a little more caution; the possibility of seals being in the neighbourhood also rendered them more circumspect. It was well that they were on the alert, for a band of seals were soon after descried in a pool of open water not far ahead, and one of them was lying on the ice.
There were no hummocks, however, in the neighbourhood to enable them to approach unseen; but the Esquimaux was prepared for such a contingency. He had brought a small sledge, of about two feet in length by a foot and a half in breadth, which he now unfastened from the large sledge, and proceeded quietly to arrange it, to the surprise of his companions, who had not the least idea what he was about to do, and watched his proceedings with much interest.
“Is it to sail on the ice ye’re goin’, boy?” enquired O’Riley, at last, when he saw Meetuck fix a couple of poles, about four feet long, into a hole in the little sledge, like two masts, and upon these spread a piece of canvas upwards of a yard square, with a small hole in the centre of it. But Meetuck answered not. He fastened the canvas “sail” to a cross-yard above and below. Then, placing a harpoon and coil of rope on the sledge, and taking up his musket, he made signs to the party to keep under the cover of a hummock, and, pushing the sledge before him, advanced towards the seals in a stooping posture, so as to be completely hid behind the bit of canvas.
“Oh the haythen, I see it now!” exclaimed O’Riley, his face puckering up with fun. “Ah, but it’s a cliver trick, no doubt of it!”
“What a capital dodge!” said Fred, crouching behind the hummock, and watching the movements of the Esquimaux with deep interest.
“West, hand me the little telescope; you’ll find it in the pack.”