st," said Peter, and laughed aloud.

This was more than Viggo could bear. He thought of what the Prince of
Augustenburg had said before the front, and he thought he must fetch the
apple, come what might. But he forgot that "retreat" had been called,
for his father had forbidden him to go near the hole. Allarm looked at
him with grave eyes and wagged his tail slowly; he did not dare to
whine. But that did not help. Viggo ran so that the wind whistled about
his ears. The ice bent under his feet and cracked, but he glided on and
on, and the ice did not break. Now he was close by the apple; he bent
down to pick it up--crash! The ice broke, and Viggo, head first, fell
in.

In a minute his head appeared above the hole. He swam for the ice and
seized the edge, but a piece broke off every time he tried to climb up.

At first the boys stood there dumb with fright. Then they all called to
him that he must try to hold on, but no one dared to help him, and no
one thought of running for help. Peter Lightfoot had sneaked away when
Viggo fell in.

The best one of them all was Allarm. First he ran yelping around the
hole, but when he saw Viggo appear again he snatched his wet cap between
his teeth and as fast as an arrow he ran toward home. When he reached
the cottage of Hans the Grenadier the old soldier was just standing in
the open doorway. The dog put Viggo's stiff frozen cap at his feet,
whined and cried, jumped up on the old man, held on to his coat and
dragged him toward the ice. Hans understood right away what was the
matter, snatched a rope and ran toward the lake, and in no time he stood
by the hole. He threw the rope to Viggo, who had begun to grow stiff
from the icy bath, and pulled him out.

Viggo ran as fast as he could to the cottage of Hans, and when he
reached the door he had an armor of shining ice over his whole body.
When the Grenadier pulled off the boy's trousers they could stand by
themselves on the floor; they were frozen stiff.

Viggo, of course, had to change from top to toe, and what should he put
on? Hans went to his old chest and came back with his uniform. Viggo
looked rather queer; the yellow knee-trousers reached to his ankles, and
the red coat with yellow cuffs and lapels hung on him like a bag.

But he was wearing a real uniform! Hans looked at him.

"Well," he said, "I won't say much about the fit of the clothes, but who
knows you may wear a better looking uniform some day. The heart is of
th