The sun was not idle, and the steaming thaw washed the mud and foulness from the bergs till they blazed like heaped diamonds in the brightness, or shimmered opalescent-blue.

Yet they were reared hazardously one on another, and ever and anon flashing towers and rainbow minarets crumbled thunderously into the flood.

By one of the gaps so made lay La Bijou, and about it, saving _chechaquos_ and sick men, were grouped the denizens of Split-up.
"Na, na, lad; twa men'll be a plenty." Tommy McPherson sought about him with his eyes for corroboration.

"Gin ye gat three i' the canoe 'twill be ower comfortable." "It must be a dash or nothing," Corliss spoke up.

"We need three men, Tommy, and you know it." "Na, na; twa's a plenty, I'm tellin' ye." "But I'm afraid we'll have to do with two." The Scotch-Canadian evinced his satisfaction openly.