What with pain, over-exertion, and excitement, White had fainted, and Cabot must either carry him to the shore, remain beside him until he recovered, or leave him to his fate and save himself by flight over the still unbroken ice.

He tried the first plan, picked White up, staggered a few steps with his helpless burden, and discovered its futility.

Then he proceeded to put the second into execution by calmly unloading the sled and making such arrangements as his slender means would allow for his comrade's comfort.

The third plan came to him merely as a thought, to be promptly dismissed as unworthy of consideration.
In the meantime the ominous sounds of cracking, grinding, rending, and splitting grew ever louder, and came ever closer, until, at length, Cabot could see and feel that the ice all about him was in motion.

By the time White recovered consciousness, a broad lane of black water had opened between that place and the Newfoundland coast, while others could be seen in various directions.
"What are you doing ?" asked White, feebly, after he had struggled back to a knowledge of passing events, and had, for some minutes, been watching his friend's movements.
"Building an igloo," answered Cabot, cheerily.