So Pat began working his sled to the west, but it was slow and dangerous work. A sudden movement would have wrecked him. Only a gentle swaying of his body, constantly repeated, that turned the sled a mere trifle to the left, was possible. Each passing minute made it clearer that he could not hope to miss the island except by the narrowest margin. Little by little he worked to the west, but still not far enough. His speed was too great to give him much time. Once he thought of rolling off the sled and taking the chance of breaking his neck; but he could not forget that he was “carryin’ Christmas.”

His heart almost stopped beating as he came under the shadow of the island. He knew now that he could clear the land, but there were ice-hummocks in the way. Another gentle swerve, still another; his right runner was lifted by the base of a hummock, the sled balanced for an instant on the left, and—settled back to level again. He had cleared the island. Now it was a straight course before the wind.