surface of this ice-belt was covered with
immense masses of rock many tons in weight, which had fallen from the
cliffs above. Pointing to one of these as they drove along, West
remarked to Fred,--

"There is a mystery explained, sir. I have often wondered how huge,
solitary stones, that no machinery of man's making could lift, have come
to be placed on sandy shores where there were no other rocks of any kind
within many miles of them. The ice must have done it, I see."

"True, West. The ice, if it could speak, would explain many things that
now seem to us mysterious; and yonder goes a big rock on a journey that
may perhaps terminate at a thousand miles to the south of this."

The rock referred to was a large mass that became detached from the
cliffs and fell, as he spoke, with a tremendous crash upon the ice-belt,
along which it rolled for fifty yards. There it would lie all winter,
and in spring the mass of ice to which it was attached would probably
break off and float away with it to the south, gradually melting until
it allowed the rock to sink to the bottom of the sea, or depositing it,
perchance, on some distant shore, where such rocks are not wont to
lie--there to remain an object of speculation and wonderment to the
unlearned of all future ages.

Some of the bergs close to which they passed on the journey were very
fantastically formed, and many of them were more than a mile long, with
clear, blue, glassy surfaces, indicating that they had been but recently
thrown off from the great glacier of the North. Between two of these
they drove for some time, before they found that they were going into a
sort of blind alley.

"Sure the road's gittin' narrower," observed O'Riley, as he glanced up
at the blue walls, which rose perpendicularly to a height of sixty feet
on either hand. "Have a care, Meetuck, or ye'll jam us up, ye will."

"'Tis a pity we left the ice-belt," remarked Fred, "for this rough work
among the bergs is bad for man and dog. How say you, Meetuck--shall we
take to it again when we get through this place?"

"Faix, then, we'll nive'r git through," said O'Riley, pointing to the
end of the chasm, where a third iceberg had entirely closed the opening.

The Esquimau pulled up, and after advancing on foot a short way to
examine, returned with a rueful expression on his countenance.

"Ha! no passage, I suppose?" said Fred.

"Bad luck to ye!" cried O'Riley, "won't ye spaak?"

"No rod--muss go bock,"