line which lay there like a vision might be a point of
land on the continent of North America or of Asia. Then again it might
be the side of an island. Phi thought of this in a vague sort of way.
His chief desire to put foot once more on something that did not drift
with wind and tide, he bent every effort to making the goal.

At last, after what seemed days of struggle, he stood within a quarter
of a mile of the shore.

The ice was piling on that shore, a scene of disordered grandeur beyond
description. It was as if the streets of a city, six or eight feet in
thickness and solid as marble, should suddenly begin to rise, to
buckle, to glide length upon length in wild confusion. For some time
the boy and the dog stood upon the last broad pan that did not pile
and, lost in speechless wonder, viewed that marvel of nature with the
eyes of unconcerned spectators.

At last the boy shook himself free from the charm. "Rover," there was
awe in his tone, "do you know what we must do? We must cross that and
reach that shore before the wind shifts or we are lost."

As if understanding his meaning, the dog lifted his nose in air and
song, the dismal song known only to the sled dog of the Arctic.

"Well--here goes!"

Phi scrambled to the surface of a gliding cake, then, having raced
across its surface, leaped a narrow chasm, to race on again. Such an
obstacle race had never before been entered into by a boy and a dog.
Rover, seeming to have regained some of the spirit of his younger days,
followed well. Once, with a dismal howl, he fell into a crevice, but
before an ice-pan could rear up and crush him, a strong arm dragged him
free.

They had made two-thirds of the distance when, on a broad pan that
shuddered as if torn by an earthquake, Phi paused. One glance at the
rocky coast brought a sharp exclamation to his lips.

"It's like the wall of a prison," he muttered; "straight up.

"No," he whispered a moment later, "there's a bare chance--that rocky
shelf. But it's fifteen feet above the ice, and how's one to reach it?
There may be a way. One can but try."

They were off again. Each fresh escape brought them face to face with
new and more startling dangers. Here they were lifted in air, to leap
away just in time from a crash. Here they crossed a pile of crushed
and slivered fragments only to face a dark and yawning pool of salt
water waiting to sting them into insensibility. But always there was a
way out.