The boy heard her encouraging words, but still made no progress.
"You are not doing your best, Harry! Think of me, if not of yourself.
Remember, I am alone and so frightened. Oh! do be quick. Here, take hold
of my hands."
This time her words went home, and the boy, half-paralysed with cold and
completely worn out, remembered his responsibility.
"Come along, Harry--hold hard! Yes, I can bear the weight!" called out
the courageous girl as she lay in her freezing garments on the ice, the
strain of the lad's weight dragging her arms almost from their sockets.
[Sidenote: Pluck Rewarded]
At last their pluck was rewarded. Heaven was good to them, and Harry
Elliott, trembling in every limb, his teeth chattering, his face pale as
the moon, stood by Gladys on solid ice. There was no time to waste in
words, the boy merely stretched out his hand to the exhausted girl and
started across the lake to the nearest house.
Not a word was spoken; they just sped onward, at first slowly and
laboriously, until the blood began to circulate and progress became
easier. When they reached the shore, they stood encased in solid ice,
their wet clothes frozen stiff by the keen frost of the glorious night.
Not for some days did Gladys betray any signs of the mental shock she
had received. Anxious parents and a careful doctor kept her in bed for a
week, while Harry occupied his usual place at the bank.
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