"The leader stopped and growled, at the edge of an open crack. His
instinct warned him of danger, but I knew I could not get up the rough
bank with my lame foot, and drove him past. As I limped by his side with
the whip, I thought I heard the current gurgle under the ice, but we
went on, the dogs snuffing and treading cautiously. Then there was a
soft thud and a splash, the team was jerked back and I saw that the
sledge had vanished. I suppose it had broken through a snow-bridge that
our weight had shaken.

"I scrambled back a yard or two and looked down into the dark gap--I
could not run because of my galled foot. Part of the sledge was covered
by fallen snow, but the fore end rested on something and I leaned down
and seized my blanket. There was a bag of food beneath it that I tried
to reach, but perhaps I shook the sledge, which began to slip down, and
I saw the dogs roll among the traces as they were dragged towards the
hole. The leader clawed desperately at the snow, howling as if he begged
my help, and I felt that I must save him. You have heard a dog howl in
fear or pain?"

"Yes," said Thirlwell, "it makes a strong appeal. But I suppose you
remembered what you risked by leaving the food?"

"I cut the trace," Father Lucien went on. "Another mass of snow fell and
the sledge sank out of sight. I imagine the stream swept it under the
ice, for I could only see the dark water foam. All the food I had except
a bannock in my pocket was lost. I forgot the team for a few moments and
when I looked up they had gone."

He paused and Thirlwell made a sign of sympathy. "A nerve-shaking jar!
But what became of the dogs?"