But it was quite a small block, which would soon break up, so he saw
that the only chance was to struggle on through the "porridge-ice"
till he could reach a bigger floe, which could serve as a raft for
him.
He did not, as some people might have done, give up all hope; he
wasn't going to say die till he was dead.
So he took off his gauntlets and moccasins and packed them on to the
dogs' backs, then he secured their harness so that it could not slip
off, and tied the traces round his wrists so that the team would drag
him through; then he tried to start.
But the dogs did not like facing the danger, and he had to push them
off the block; even then they only struggled to get back, till a
particularly favourite dog understanding him when he threw a bit of
ice on to another "pan" or block? started, and so led the others to
get to it.
In this way, dragging their master after them, the dogs struggled from
pan to pan, till at last they reached one larger than the rest, about
ten feet by twelve in size.
It was not real solid ice, but a block of powdered ice, which might
fall to bits at any time.
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