We did so, but it appeared that the spot at which we originally struck the fissure was the narrowest place; it widened at either side.
We stood and stared at it. Tom spoke first.
'Dare you?' he asked.
I saw what he meant and remained silent, considering. 'It's about six feet,' I said, 'I suppose one could fly it—both feet together, eh?'
'Yes; come on—no use thinking—we will go for it; I will give you a lead. Hold out your coat to me and pull me in if I fall short.'
Tom took a good run, got up a great speed, and launched himself into the air. He must have cleared eight or ten feet at least. 'Come on!' he laughed, 'it's as easy as winking.'
I must confess that I was more than a little frightened as I prepared to follow my daring cousin. I imitated his methods as closely as I could; I got a terrific speed up and let myself go.
I cleared the open water easily, but so great was my impetus that I turned head over heels at the other side, and lay panting and laughing on the ice.
Presently we were in full sweep once more towards Cronstadt; we reached the 'half-way house' without adventure; this was a little wooden hut built on the ice for the accommodation of travellers in need of shelter or warmth. It was kept by a man and his wife, who must have found it a weird house to live in all the winter.
'We heard wolves last night,' they told us; 'get back before dusk if you are wise!'