The break-up that the men were
awaiting had come.
"'Tis sure a fearsome sight," remarked Bill one day when the storm was
at its height, as he returned from "a look outside" to join Dick and
Ed, who sat smoking their pipes in silence in the tilt.
"An' how'd un like t' be ridin' one o' them cakes o' ice out there,
an' no way o' reachin' shore?" asked Ed.
"I wouldn't be ridin' un from choice, an' if I were ridin' un I'm
thinkin' 'twould be my last ride," answered Bill.
"Once I were ridin' un, an' ridin' un from choice," said Ed, with the
air of one who had a story to tell.
"No you weren't never ridin' un. What un tell such things for, Ed?"
broke in Dick. "Un has dreams an' tells un for happenin's, I'm
thinkin'."
Ed ignored the interruption as though he had not heard it, and
proceeded to relate to Bill his wonderful adventure.
"Once," said he,--"'twere five year ago--I were waitin' at my lower
tilt for th' break-up t' come, an' has my boat hauled up t' what I
thinks is a safe place, when I gets up one mornin' t' find th' water
come up extra high in th' night an' th' boat gone wi' th' ice. That
leaves me in a rare bad fix, wi' nothin' t' do, seems t' me, but wait
for th' water t' settle, an' cruise down th' river afoot.
"I'm not fancyin' th' cruise, an' I watches th' ice an' wonders, when
I marks chance cakes o' ice driftin' down close t' shore an' touchin'
land now an' agin as un goes, could I ride un.
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