Jacob Welse picked out the leaders as the
more intelligent, and with grub-packs on them drove them out from the
bank. They could not grasp what was demanded of them. Whenever they
tried to return they were driven back with sticks and clods and
imprecations. This only bewildered them, and they retreated out of
range, whence they raised their wet, cold paws and whined pitifully to
the shore.
"If they could only make it once, they would understand, and then it
would go like clock-work. Ah! Would you? Go on! Chook, Miriam!
Chook! The thing is to get the first one across."
Jacob Welse finally succeeded in getting Miriam, lead-dog to Frona's
team, to take the trail left by him and the baron. The dog went on
bravely, scrambling over, floundering through, and sometimes swimming;
but when she had gained the farthest point reached by them, she sat
down helplessly. Later on, she cut back to the shore at a tangent,
landing on the deserted island above; and an hour afterwards trotted
into camp minus the grub-pack. Then the two dogs, hovering just out of
range, compromised matters by devouring each other's burdens; after
which the attempt was given over and they were called in.
During the afternoon the noise increased in frequency, and by nightfall
was continuous, but by morning it had ceased utterly. The river had
risen eight feet, and in many places was running over its crust.
Pages:
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261