Carolyn May was not the first of the trio caught out on the moving ice
to be frightened. Perhaps because she had such unbounded faith in the
good intentions of everybody towards her, the child could not imagine
anything really hurting her.
That is, excepting wildcats. Carolyn May was pretty well convinced that
they did not like little girls.
"Oh, isn't this fun!" she crowed, bending her head before the beating of
the storm. "Do hang on, Princey."
But Prince could not hang on so well, now that they faced the wind. He
slipped off the sled twice, and that delayed them. Under his skates,
Chet could feel the ice heave, while the resonant cracks followed each
other like a file-fire of musketry.
"Goodness me!" gasped Carolyn May, "the ice seems to be going all to
pieces, Chet. I hope it won't till we get back to the shore."
"I'm hopin' that, too," returned the boy.
He had quickly realised that they were in peril, but he would not let
Carolyn May see that he was frightened--no, indeed! But he had to give up
trying to make Prince sit on the sled.
"He'll just have to run. He can do it in this snow," said Chet. "I
declare! he can get along better than I can. I guess I'd better take off
my skates."
"I'll hold 'em for you, Chet," Carolyn May cried, laughing. "My! doesn't
this snow slap you hard?"
The boy unstrapped the skates swiftly. He had a very good reason for
removing them. If the ice was breaking up into floes, he might skate
right off into the water, being unable to halt quickly enough, if on the
steel runners.
He now plodded on, head down, dragging the sled and the child, with
Prince slipping and scratching along beside them.
Suddenly he came to open water. It was so broad a channel that he could
not hope to leap it; and, of course, he could not get the sled and the
little girl across.
"My!" cried Carolyn May, "that place wasn't here when we came out, was
it, Chet? It must have just come here."
"I don't think it was here before," admitted the boy.
"Or maybe you're not going back the way you came?" suggested the little
girl. "Are you sure you're going the right way home?"
Chet really was doubtful of his direction. He believed that the wind was
blowing directly down the cove, but it might have shifted. The thickly
falling snow blinded and confused him.
Suddenly a sound reached their ears that startled both; it even made
Prince prick up his ears and listen. Then the dog sat up on his haunches
and began to howl.
"Oh, _don't_, Prince!" gasped Carolyn May. "Who ever told you you could
sing, just because you hear a church bell ringing?"
"That's the chapel bell!" cried Chet Gormley. "Now I'm sure I'm right.
But we must get around this open patch of water."
He set off along the edge of the open water, which looked black and
angry. The ice groaned and cracked in a threatening way. He was not sure
whether the floe they were on had completely broken away from the great
mass of ice in the cove and was already drifting out into the lake or
not.
Haste, however, he knew was imperative. The tolling of the chapel bell
coming faintly down the wind, Chet drew the sled swiftly along the edge
of the opening, the dog trotting along beside them, whining. Prince
plainly did not approve of this.
"Here it is!" shouted the boy in sudden joy. "Now we'll be all right,
Car'lyn May!"
"Oh, I'm so glad, Chet," said the little girl. "For I'm getting real
cold, and this snow makes me all wet."
Chet was tempted to take off his coat and put it about her. But the coat
was thin, and he felt that it was already soaked through. It would not
do her any material good.
"Keep up your heart, Car'lyn May," he begged. "I guess we'll get through
all right now."
"Oh, I'm not really afraid," the little girl answered. "Only I'd really
like to be on shore."
Chet would have liked to be on shore at that very moment himself. He
swiftly drew the sled around the upper end of the open piece of water.
The ice was "bucking" under his feet, and scarcely had they got away
from the water when the crack extended clear across the cove and the
floe drifted away.
"Hurrah!" shouted the boy, his courage rising again. "We're well rid of
that old place."
"Oh, isn't it good that we got away from there?" Carolyn May remarked.
"Why! we might have drifted right out into the middle of the lake and
been home too late for supper."
Chet had no rejoinder to make to this. He realised that the entire
surface of the cove ice was breaking up. Again and again the shattering
sounds announced the splitting of the ice floes. He hastened on towards
the sound of the tolling bell, sharply on the watch for other breaks in
the ice.
Here was another--a wide-spreading crevasse filled with black water. Chet
had no idea to which direction he should turn. And, indeed, it seemed to
him as though the opening was growing wider each moment. The ice on
which they stood must be completely severed from that further up in the
inlet!
The boy had become frightened. Carolyn May had little idea of their
danger. Prince sat up and howled. It seemed to the boy as though they
were in desperate straits, indeed.
"You've got to be a brave girl, Car'lyn May," he said. "I'm goin' to
swim across this place and then drag you over. You stick to the sled and
you won't scarcely get wet even."
"Oh, Chet! but _you'll_ get wet!" she cried. "And your mother'll punish
you, Chet Gormley!"
"Oh, no, she won't," replied the boy, with a hysterical laugh. "Don't
you fear. Now, sit right still."
He had untied one end of the sled rope and looped it around his wrist.
The open water was not more than eight feet across. He knew it was going
to be an exceedingly cold plunge, but he saw no other way of overcoming
the difficulty.
Prince began to bark madly when the boy sat down and thrust his legs
into the black water. The chill of it almost took Chet's breath away
when he finally slid down, shoulder deep, into the flood.
"Oh, Chet! don't you _dare_ get drownd-ed!" begged Carolyn May,
terrified now by the situation.
He turned a bright face on her as he struck out for the edge of the
other ice floe. Chet might not have been the wisest boy who ever lived,
but he was brave, in the very best sense of the word.
"Don't worry about me, Car'lyn May," he chattered.
The desperate chill of the water almost stopped the boy's heart. The
shock of this plunge into the icy depths was sufficient to kill a weak
person. But Chet Gormley had plenty of reserve strength, whether he was
noted for good sense or not.
Almost anybody in his situation would have remained on the ice and hoped
for help from shore; but it never entered Chet's mind that he could
expect anybody else to save Carolyn May but himself. She was in his
care, and Chet believed it was up to him to get her safely ashore, and
that in as quick time as possible.
Three strokes took him across the patch of open water. He hooked his
arms over the edge of the ice to his elbows, took breath for a moment,
and then dragged his long frame up on the bobbing, uncertain field.
It was a mighty struggle. Chet's saturated garments and his boots filled
with water weighed him down like lead. But he accomplished it at last.
He was safely on the ice. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the
child on the sled in the snowstorm and the dog beside her.
"Well be all right in a minute, Car'lyn May!" he called, climbing to his
feet.
And then he discovered something that almost stunned him. The line he
had looped around his wrist had slipped off! He had no way of reaching
the rope attached to the sled save by crossing back through the water.
Chet felt that he could not do it.
"Oh, Chet! Chet!" wailed Carolyn May, "you've dropped my rope!"
The end of it hung in the water. The child, of course, could not throw
it across to him. The boy was stricken dumb and motionless. That is, he
was motionless, save for the trembling of his limbs and the chattering
of his teeth. The chill of the water had struck through, it seemed, to
the very marrow of his bones.
What he should do, poor Chet could not think. His brain seemed
completely clouded. And he was so cold and helpless that there was not
much he could do, anyway.
His clothing was stiffening on his frame. The snow beat against his
back, and he could scarcely stand. The space was growing wider between
the edge of the ice where he stood and that edge where Carolyn May and
the dog were.
But what was the little girl doing? He saw her hauling in on the wet
rope, and she seemed to be speaking to Prince, for he stood directly
before her, his ears erect, his tail agitated. By-and-by he barked
sharply.
"_Now_, Princey!" Chet heard her cry.
She thrust the end of the rope into the dog's jaws and waved her
mittened hand towards the open water and the unhappy Chet beyond it.
Prince sprang around, faced the strait of black water, shaking the end
of the rope vigorously. Chet saw what she meant, and he shrieked to the
dog:
"Come on, Prince! Come on, good dog! Here, sir!"
Prince could not bark his reply with the rope in his jaws, but he sprang
into the water, and swam sturdily towards Chet.
"Come on, you good dog!" yelled Chet, half-crying and half-laughing.
"You have the pep, you have, Prince! Come on!"
He stooped and seized the dog's forelegs when he came near and helped
him scramble out on the ice. The end of the rope was safely in his grasp
again.
"My goodness! My goodness! I could sing a hallelujah!" declared Chet,
his eyes streaming now. "Hold on, now, Car'lyn May! I'm goin' to drag
you across. You hang right on to that sled."
"Oh, I'll cling to it, Chet," declared the little girl. "And do take me
off this ice, quick, for I think it's floating out with me."
Chet drew on the rope, the sled moved forward and plunged, with just a
little splash, into the pool. Prince barked desperately as his little
mistress screamed.
"Oh, I'm getting wet, Chet!" she shrieked.
"Hold hard!" yelled Chet in return. "You won't get very wet."
In a few seconds he had "snaked" the sled to the edge of the ice floe on
which he stood. He picked the sobbing Carolyn May off the sled and then
lifted that up, too. The little girl was wet below her waist.
"I'm--I'm just as co--cold as I--I can be," she chattered. "Oh, Chet! take
me home please!"
"I'm a-going to," chattered the lad in return.
He dragged off his coat now, wrung it as dry as he could, and wrapped it
around Carolyn May's legs before he seated her on the sled again. Then
he seized the rope once more and started towards the sound of the chapel
bell.
How glad he was that the bell still sounded! He was sure of that--and it
was the only thing he was sure of.
He could only stagger on, now, for his feet were very heavy, and he felt
as though he should fall at any moment. And if he did fall he was quite
sure he would not be able to get up again.
Chet knew he could not face Mr. Stagg if anything really bad happened to
"Hannah's Car'lyn." All his hopes of advancement and ultimate success
would be swept away, too, if this adventure ended in tragedy.
Foolish as perhaps the boy's longings and hopes were, the mark he had
set himself to gain was very real, indeed, to Chet Gormley. He hoped
some day to see that sign, "Stagg & Gormley," over the hardware store
door. If for no other reason than that, he would not give up now.
The chapel bell tolled on. The sleet beat in his face stingingly. He
panted and staggered, but persevered.
"I'll show him," murmured Chet. "I won't give up! Poor little kid--I
guess _not_! I'll get her home----"
Prince began to bark. He could not move forward much faster than Chet
did; but he faced to the right and began to bark with persistence.
"There--there's something over there, Chet," murmured Carolyn May. She
was all but breathless herself.
Then, through the wind and the storm, came a faint hail. Prince eagerly
pursued his barking. Chet tried to reply to the hail, but his voice was
only a hoarse croak.
"We've got to keep on--we've got to keep on," muttered the lad, dragging
the sled slowly.
His submersion in the icy water had been a serious matter. His limbs
were too heavy, it seemed, for further progress. He scarcely knew now
what he was doing--only the tolling of the chapel bell seemed to draw him
on--and on--and on----
The dog had disappeared. Carolyn May was weeping frankly. Chet Gormley
was pushing slowly through the storm, staggering at each step, scarcely
aware in what direction he was heading.