the late affair of the
lead-boulder--a miscarriage of his schemes which was doubtless extremely
galling to him--one would think he would have rather avoided us than
not, he appeared to feel no embarrassment whatever, but with a greeting
of well-simulated cordiality he dismounted and walked over to the pool
to see what we were doing. Perhaps--and this, I think, is probably the
right explanation--if he did entertain the idea of some day "getting
even" with us, he had decided to postpone any such attempt until he saw
an opportunity of doing so at a profit.

"Fine lot of ice," he remarked, after standing for a moment watching Joe
as he plied the saw. "Does this creek always freeze up like this?"

"Yes," I replied. "It heads in Mount Lincoln, and is made up of a number
of small streams which always freeze up about the first of November.
That reduces the flow to about one-third its usual size; and when the
little streams which come down from three or four of the 'bubbles'
freeze up too, the creek stops entirely; which makes it mighty
convenient for us to cut ice, as you see."

"I see. Is the pool the same depth all over?"

"No," I answered. "Just here, under the fall, it is deepest, but round
the edges it is so shallow that we can't take a stroke with the saw, the
sand comes so close up to the ice. In fact, in some places, the ice
rests right upon the sand."

"How deep is it here?"

"Four or five feet, I think. Try it, Joe."

Joe, who had just laid down the saw and had taken up the long ice-hook
we used for drawing the blocks of ice within reach, lowered the hook,
point downward, into the water. Then, pulling it out again, he stood it
up beside him, finding that the wet mark on the staff came up to his
chin.

"Five feet and three or four inches," said he.

"Is the bottom solid or sandy?" asked Yetmore.

"I didn't notice. I'll try it."

With that Joe lowered the pole once more.

"Seems solid," he remarked, giving two or three hard prods. But he had
scarcely said so, when, to our surprise, several bits of rough ice about
as big as my hand bobbed up from the bottom.

"Hallo!" exclaimed Yetmore. "Ground ice!"

"What's ground ice?" I asked.

"Why, ice formed at the bottom of the pool. It is not uncommon, I
believe, though I don't remember to have seen any before. Pretty dirty
stuff, isn't it? Must be a sandy bottom."

So saying, he stooped down, and picking up the only bit of ice which
happened to be within re