They couldn't get away from the river, for the banks were too steep.
By and by they reached a ravine where the water boiled and churned and
raced along in its great rocky trough too rapidly to be frozen, even
by the intense cold that prevailed. It seemed as if they must be
halted here--but that is not the way with men of Newfoundland and the
Labrador.

The only thing to do was to chop a passage through the ice along the
bank--like making a tow-path for a canal.

After they had fought their way through the narrows, they yearned for
sleep. So they built a fire, and felled tree-trunks twenty feet long
into it, till they had a "gorgeous blaze." Then they dug holes in the
snow, deep as bear's dens, broke loose from their stiff, icy clothes,
got into their sleeping bags, and slept the sleep of the just till
the golden sun warmed them with its morning blessing.

The rest of the way gave them no trouble. They got a royal welcome
from the hands at the mill. It was such a great event, in fact, that a
holiday was declared, and all hands went "rabbiting." At the end of
the day they built another mighty fire of logs, gathered round it with
steaming cocoa and pork buns, and decided all over again that life was
worth living and that moving a lumber-mill on an Arctic fore-shore is
sheer fun, if you only think so.

Not long after an experimental fox farm was begun. The farm part of it
is not so hard as the foxes. All you need for the farm is a few poles
and some wire netting.

They picked up a dozen couples of foxes--red, white, cross, and one
silver pair. A Harvard professor describes moving day when foxes were
being brought on the little steamer to St. Anthony. "Dr. Grenfell at
one time had fifteen little foxes aboard.... Some of these little
animals had been brought aboard in blubber casks, and their coats were
very sticky. After a few days they were very tame and played with the
dogs; they were all over the deck, fell down the companionway, were
always having their tails and feet stepped on, and yelping for pain,
when not yelling for food. The long-suffering seaman who took care of
them said, 'I been cleaned out dat fox box. It do be shockin'. I been
in a courageous turmoil my time, but dis be de head smell ever I
witnessed.'"

[Illustration: CASTLES AND CATHEDRALS OF ICE AFLOAT]

Probably the fox farm suffered from too much publicity. A mother
silver fox is one of the scariest of creatures, and is known to "kill
her c