CAMPAIGNING WITH MAX. 107 



depth of the water. I can make no stronger 

 statement than that we all got through safely, 

 only wet to the skin. How it was done I do 

 not pretend to know. Some went in one way 

 and some in another. All I can assert is that 

 my stalwart old Max, when he found himself 

 standing, belly deep, in broken ice, settled quiet- 

 ly on his haunches and took my two hundred 

 pounds with one spring on to dry land four feet 

 higher than his starting-point, and twelve feet 

 away, — but then, Max always was a marvel. 

 Guy, who carried Ike, scrambled over the top of 

 the broken ice as only he or a cat could do. The 

 others fared variously. All were drenched, and 

 some were hurt, but all got to the shore at last. 

 Then came the hour-long tug to get my ambu- 

 lance through with its store of tent-hold gods, 

 and we started for our remaining four miles. 

 The trail, even of cavalry, is not easily followed 

 by moonlight when covered with half a foot of 

 water, and we lost our way ; reaching 'camp, after 

 fourteen miles of hard travel, at four o'clock in 

 the morning. 



