They had been traveling for
nearly six hours and had covered but ten miles of the journey. The
temporary lull in the storm had long since passed, and now, beating
down upon the world with redoubled fury, it met them squarely in the
face. No dog could stem it. The men could scarce stand upright. The
clouds of snow suffocated them, and the cold was withering.
Far out they could hear the thunder of smashing ice. It was a threat
that the still firm ice lying before them might be broken into
fragments at any time. Sea water had already driven over it, forming a
thick coating of half-frozen slush. Even though the gale that swept
the ice field had not been too fierce to face, any attempt to cross
would obviously have been a foolhardy undertaking.
XIX
HOW AMBROSE WAS MADE TO WALK
One of the men from Cape Norman had been acting as leader on the trail
from St. Anthony. His name was Will, and he was a big broad-shouldered
man, a giant of a fellow. He knew all the trappers on this part of the
coast, and where their trapping grounds lay. One of his neighbors,
whom he spoke of as "Si," trapped in the neighborhood where the
baffled men now found themselves.
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