The shock was tremendous, but being fine swimmers they naturally struck
out, trying to grasp the slippery ice.
To his horror Harry knew that his gloves were in his pocket, and now,
try as he would, his hands would not grip the ice. Gladys had been
entrusted to his care: not only would his life be the price of having
separated from the "Bunch," but infinitely worse, she must share the
same fate.
Despair lent him strength to support the girl with his left arm while he
tried to swing his right leg over and dig the heel of his skate into the
ice.
But all in vain, he tried and tried again. Numbed with cold, he felt
himself growing weaker and he knew that the end could not be far off
should the next attempt fail.
One more struggle--one last effort--and the skate, thank Heaven, had
caught! Then came the last act. Clenching his teeth and wildly imploring
help from on high, Harry gathered together his last remnant of strength,
and swung the girl on to the ice--Gladys was saved!
The boy's heart beat, his panting breath seemed to suffocate him, the
strain had been so fearful; now he could do no more, he seemed to make
no effort to save himself.
"Harry! Harry!" cried Gladys; "you must try more! I'm all right and can
help you--see, I am here close by!" she cried, frantic with terror. "It
will be all right directly," she added bravely as she lay flat down and
crept up to the edge of the ice.
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