How far its other end could be buried in the mass was matter for conjecture.

They climbed to the summit, dragging the canoe after them, and looked out over the dazzle.

Floe was piled on floe in titanic confusion.

Huge blocks topped and overtopped one another, only to serve as pedestals for great white masses, which blazed and scintillated in the sun like monstrous jewels.
"A bonny place for a bit walk," Tommy sneered, "wi' the next jam fair to come ony time." He sat down resolutely.

"No, thank ye kindly, I'll no try it." Frona and Corliss clambered on, the canoe between them.
"The Persians lashed their slaves into battle," she remarked, looking back.