The distance across the ice was about seven miles, with an island
about half-way.
He reached the island all right, and was pushing on from there to the
opposite mainland, when he found that the ice was becoming rotten and
soft--what is called "sish"--that is, pounded ice formed from big
slabs which have been ground together by the action of the sea.
As he found himself sinking in this, together with his sledge, he
slipped off his heavy oilskins and coat, and quickly got out his knife
and cut the traces of his dog-team, winding the leader's trace round
his wrist.
In this way he was himself pulled along by the dogs plunging through
the slush. The leading dog got on to a solid ice-floe, and Grenfell
was gladly hauling himself up to him by the trace, when the dog
slipped all his harness off, and his master was left, sinking among
the other dogs in the "sish."
Then he luckily caught the trace of another, and pulled himself along
that till he managed to get on to the block of ice, on to which he
helped the rest of the dogs.
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