Bartlett had, of course, left camp and taken to the trail again long before I and the men of my division were awake.

This was in accordance with my general plan, previously outlined, that the pioneer division should be traveling while the main division slept, and _vice versa_, so that the two divisions might be in communication every day.
After traveling at a good rate for six hours along Bartlett's trail, we came upon his camp beside a wide lead, with a dense, black, watery sky to the northwest, north, and northeast, and beneath it the smoky fog which we had been facing all day long.

In order not to disturb Bartlett, we camped a hundred yards distant, put up our igloos as quietly as possible, and turned in, after our usual supper of pemmican, biscuit, and tea.

We had made some twelve miles over much better going than that of the last few marches and on a nearly direct line over large floes and young ice.
I was just dropping off to sleep when I heard the ice creaking and groaning close by the igloo, but as the commotion was not excessive, nor of long duration, I attributed it to the pressure from the closing of the lead which was just ahead of us; and after satisfying myself that my mittens were where I could get them instantly, in an emergency, I rolled over on my bed of deerskins and settled myself to sleep.

I was just drowsing again when I heard some one yelling excitedly outside.
Leaping to my feet and looking through the peep-hole of our igloo, I was startled to see a broad lead of black water between our two igloos and Bartlett's, the nearer edge of water being close to our entrance; and on the opposite side of the lead stood one of Bartlett's men yelling and gesticulating with all the abandon of an excited and thoroughly frightened Eskimo.
Awakening my men, I kicked our snow door into fragments and was outside in a moment.