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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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