e pack broken up there?"

"Yes, the tide sets to the eastward, and the wind blows the heavy ice
northward as soon as it clears the eastern shoals. See that berg going
to pieces on Doyle's Reef!"

As he spoke, the berg, a small one, worn by sun and rain into a
multitude of fantastic pinnacles, swung off from its easterly drift,
and, wafted by the wind, rapidly floated towards the concealed reef,
whose sharp and hidden rocks can only be suspected during the prevalence
of the heaviest storms. With a moderate rate of speed, not much
exceeding two knots an hour, the massive base of the ice-island suddenly
rose, as the shelving rocks received the irresistible impact. Then a few
glittering pieces dimpled the surface of the unruffled water. It was
the signal of impending dissolution. Crash upon crash, like the roar of
artillery, echoed and re-echoed among the floes, and rent from base to
pinnacle, the majestic frost-castle fell into utter ruin, torturing the
sea into foam, while the billows raised by the rocking of the huge
fragments swept up the narrow walls, sweeping right across many of the
lower floes, and even raising a slight ripple around the base of the
great berg itself.

"We must return, Regnie. The clouds are darkening fast, and fog or a
thick scud is sweeping up from the southward. Let us have one more look
for the steamers, and then we must away to our friends."

"There is a steamer on the outer edge of the pack, I think. You will see
her smoke in line with the East Point yonder."

"Yes, Regnie, that is a steamer, sure enough, and she will make her way
to the centre of the pack. Let us hasten to the floe and take to the
boats. We can perhaps reach her by rowing through the narrow leads
before the gale rises."

Hastening down the side of the watercourse they descended the berg, and
set off along its base, in the direction of the hut. As they passed they
gave a last glance at the sealer's tomb. Down the path they had
ascended, dashed an overflowing torrent, which disappeared with a whirl
and hollow gurgle into the yawning aperture, while the whole front of
the wall which they had ascended, dripped with water and glittered with
spray.

"The keenest eye among the hunters of the Mistassini could not uncover
that trail; and known to God and us alone is the bloody mystery of the
Deadman's Berg."

"Don't talk of that again, Regnie. Let the dead rest. Perhaps it may yet
transpire that he was penitent at the last,