bad promise: the pans crunched and creaked as they settled more at
ease. The ice was going abroad. As the farther fields drifted off to
sea, the floe fell loose inshore. Lanes and pools opened up. The
cake-ice tipped and went awash under the weight of a man. Rough going,
ecod! There was no telling when open water would cut a man off where
he stood. And the wind was whipping off-shore, and the snow was like
dust in a man's eyes and mouth, and the landmarks of Gingerbread Cove
was nothing but shadows in a mist of snow to windward. Nobody knowed
where Pinch-a-Penny Peter was. Nobody thought about him. And wherever
poor old Pinch-a-Penny was--whether safe ashore or creaking shoreward
against the wind on his last legs--he must do for himself. 'Twas no
time to succor rich or poor. Every man for himself and the devil take
the hindmost.

Bound out, in the morning, Long Tom Lane had fetched his rodney
through the lanes. By luck and good conduct he had managed to get the
wee boat a fairish way out. He had beached her, there on the floe--a
big pan, close by a hummock which he marked with care. And 'twas for
Tom Lane's little rodney that the seven last men of Gingerbread Cove
was jumping. With her afloat--and the pack loosening in-shore under
the wind--they could make harbor well enough afore the gale worked up
the water in the lee of the Gingerbread hills. But she was a mean,
small boat. There was room for six, with safety--but room for no more;
no room for seven. 'Twas a nasty mess, to be sure. You couldn't expect
nothing else. But there wasn't no panic. Gingerbread men was
accustomed to tight places. And they took this one easy. Them that got
there first launched the boat and stepped in. No fight; no fuss.

It just happened to be Eleazer Butt that was left. 'Twas Eleazer's
ill-luck. And Eleazer was up in years, and had fell behind coming over
the ice.

"No room for me?" says he.

'Twas sure death to be left on the ice. The wind begun to taste of
frost. And 'twas jumping up. 'Twould carry the floe far and scatter it
broadcast.

"See for yourself, lad," says Tom.

"Pshaw!" says Eleazer. "That's too bad!"

"You isn't no sorrier than me, b'y."

Eleazer tweaked his beard. "Dang it!" says he. "I wisht there _was_
room. I'm hungry for my supper."

"Let un in," says one of the lads. "'Tis even chances she'll float it
out."

"Well," says Eleazer, "I doesn't want t' make no trouble----"

"Come aboard," says Tom. "An' make h