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, 235 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 236 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 237 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 238 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. 239
“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 240 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. 241
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 242 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 243 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.