We heard the bells of Herman Mordaunt's sleigh, on the other side of the
barrier, but could see nothing. The broken cakes, pressed upon by millions
of tons weight above, had risen fully ten feet, into an inclination that
was nearly perpendicular; rendering crossing it next to impossible, even to
one a-foot. Then came Herman Mordaunt's voice, filled with paternal agony,
and human grief, to increase the awe of that dreadful moment!

"Shore!--shore!--" he shouted, or rather yelled--"In the name of a
righteous Providence, to the shore, Guert!"

The bells passed off towards the western bank, and the rumbling of the
runners accompanied their sound. That was a breathless moment to us four.
We heard the rending and grinding of the ice, on all sides of us; saw
the broken barriers behind and in front; heard the jingling of Herman
Mordaunt's bells, as it became more and more distant, and finally ceased;
and felt as if we were cut off from the rest of our species. I do not think
either of us felt any apprehension of breaking through; for use had so
accustomed us to the field of the river, while the more appalling grounds
of alarm were so evident, that no one thought of such a source of danger.
Nor was there much, in truth, to apprehend from that cause. The thaw had
not lasted long enough materially to diminish either the thickness or the
tenacity of the common river ice; though it was found unequal to resisting
the enormous pressure that bore upon it from above. It is probable that
a cake of an acre's size would have upheld, not only ourselves, but our
sleigh and horses, and carried us, like a raft, down the stream; had there
been such a cake, free from stationary impediments. Even the girls now
comprehended the danger, which was in a manner suspended over us,--as the
impending wreath of snow menaces the fall of the _avalanche_. But, it was
no moment for indecision or inaction.