climbed upon boulders, vainly hoping to at least get a glimpse of the land. Of course, we knew the direction in which the shore lay, but it was so low, and we were so far out, that it was beyond our view.
Soon the shades of night began to fall about us, our canoes were leaking badly and the weather was bitterly cold. Failing to reach the shore, we resolved to wait for high tide, about ten o'clock, hoping we might with it do better. The tide came, but left us still in the same condition, no more able to penetrate the ice or gain the shore than before. It had become intensely dark, and we were in great danger of being smashed on the ice or rocks. We were utterly helpless and could do nothing but remain where we were, or go where the tide chose to carry us, until the return of daylight.
The hours of that night were the longest I have ever experienced, and the odds seemed to be against us surviving until morning; but at last the day returned and found us still alive. My brother was nearly frozen, having been obliged to sit or lie in icy water all night. Poor little Michel had both of his feet frozen, and the rest of us were badly used up. Still we were in the same position as on the night before. We could not hold out much longer; we must gain the shore or perish. At the time of high tide, the ice being somewhat loosened, our canoes were thrust into the pack, and by great exertion as well as much care we succeeded about one o'clock in reaching solid ice, upon which we were able to land and, for the last time, haul out our noble little crafts. We had been in them just thirty hours, battling with the ice, exposed to a chilling winter
