CHAPTER XVII.
IMPRISONED BY AN ICEBERG.
The brief northern summer was nearly ended.

Its days were growing short and chill, its nights long and cold.

The month of October was well advanced, and flurries of snow heralded the approach of winter.
Most of the Labrador fishing fleet had already sailed away, and the few boats still left were preparing for a speedy departure.

The last steamer of the season had come and gone, and the few permanent residents of the country were moving back from the coast into winter quarters.

Great flocks of geese streamed southward, and with harsh cries gave warning of the icy terrors that had driven them from their Arctic nesting places.