It had broken away, indeed, to a point far within the boundaries of their old _igloo_ and the place where they had hunted.
"The first little blow will break the whole floe up," he said dejectedly.

"Anyhow I suppose it won't matter, for I'll soon starve to death without a gun." But out to the southward lay a great field of ice, and it seemed not so far away.

An hour's observation assured Bobby that his small floe was traveling much more rapidly than this larger field, and was gradually approaching it.

Late in the afternoon he caught the glint of miniature bergs, as the sunlight touched them, rising above the great floe ahead, and as he watched them a burst of understanding came upon him.
"It's the great North pack!" he exclaimed.

"It's the Arctic pack! If I can get on that I'll be safe from drowning, anyhow, for a few days! It's stronger than this, and it'll stand some good blows." To quench his thirst he clipped particles of ice with his snow knife and sucked them, while he ran up and down to keep warm.