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Islanded.
Chap. 7

"Help, ho!" they cry, and hail the distant shore,
Accross the wintry waters and the snow;
They shout and listen long  – [[strikethrough]] but [[/strikethrough]] and ever-more,
'Tis but the mocking echo answers "ho!"

We listened a moment, and suggesting a few ^[[possible]] explanations, finding that nothing further seemed to occur, crept into the booth.

We awoke ^[[with day-light]] to find that the storm, which seemed then ^[[to]] have some-what abated, had increased during the night.  The ground was already deep-covered and the air thick with flakes.  

Arnheim and I went down to the 
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