But the magnificence! Look!" He pointed down to the bunch of islands which obstructed the bend.
There the mile-wide stream divided and subdivided again,--which was well for water, but not so well for packed ice.

The islands drove their wedged heads into the frozen flood and tossed the cakes high into the air.

But cake pressed upon cake and shelved out of the water, out and up, sliding and grinding and climbing, and still more cakes from behind, till hillocks and mountains of ice upreared and crashed among the trees.
"A likely place for a jam," Jacob Welse said.

"Get the glasses, Frona." He gazed through them long and steadily.

"It's growing, spreading out.