With this equipment the hook was dropped into the hole and moved up and down slowly, until a fish took hold, when it was immediately pulled out.  The trout were very sluggish at this season of the year and made no fight, and were therefore readily landed.  The most of them weighed from two to five pounds each, and indeed any smaller than that were spurned and thrown back into the hole “t’ grow up,” as Ed put it.

One evening a rain set in and for four days and nights it never ceased.  It poured down as if the gates of the eternal reservoirs of heaven had been opened and the flood let loose to drown the world.  The snow became a sea of slush and miniature rivers ran down to join forces with the larger stream.

At first the waters overflowed the ice, but at last it gave way to the irresistible force that assailed it, and giving way began to move upon the current in great unwieldly masses.

The river rose to its brim and burst its banks.  Trees were uprooted, and mingling with the ice surged down towards the sea upon the crest of the unleashed, untamed torrent.  The break-up that the men were awaiting had come.

“’Tis sure a fearsome sight,” remarked Bill one day when the storm was at its height, as he returned from “a look outside” to join Dick and Ed, who sat smoking their pipes in silence in the tilt.

“An’ how’d un like t’ be ridin’ one o’ them cakes o’ ice out there, an’ no way o’ reachin’ shore?” asked Ed.

“I wouldn’t be ridin’ un from choice, an’ if I were ridin’ un I’m thinkin’ ’twould be my last ride,” answered Bill.

“Once I were ridin’ un, an’ ridin’ un from choice,” said Ed, with the air of one who had a story to tell.

“No you weren’t never ridin’ un.  What un tell such things for, Ed?” broke in Dick.  “Un has dreams an’ tells un for happenin’s, I’m thinkin’.”

Ed ignored the interruption as though he had not heard it, and proceeded to relate to Bill his wonderful adventure.

“Once,” said he,—­“‘twere five year ago—­I were waitin’ at my lower tilt for th’ break-up t’ come, an’ has my boat hauled up t’ what I thinks is a safe place, when I gets up one mornin’ t’ find th’ water come up extra high in th’ night an’ th’ boat gone wi’ th’ ice.  That leaves me in a rare bad fix, wi’ nothin’ t’ do, seems t’ me, but wait for th’ water t’ settle, an’ cruise down th’ river afoot.

“I’m not fancyin’ th’ cruise, an’ I watches th’ ice an’ wonders, when I marks chance cakes o’ ice driftin’ down close t’ shore an’ touchin’ land now an’ agin as un goes, could I ride un.  Th’ longer I watches un th’ more I thinks ‘twould be a fine way t’ ride on un, an’ at last I makes up my pack an’ cuts a good pole, an’ watches my chance, which soon comes.  A big cake comes rollin’ down an’ I steps aboard un an’ away I goes.

“‘Twere fine for a little while, an’ I says, ‘Ed, now you knows th’ thing t’ do in a tight place.’