ds at a steep incline to the
breast of snow where Otter sat in safety.

On they whizzed, ice beneath them and before them, and ice in Leonard's
heart, for he was frozen with fear. His breath had left him because of
the rush of their progress, but his senses remained painfully acute.
Involuntarily he glanced over the edge of the stone, saw the sheer
depths below him, and found himself wondering what was the law that kept
their sledge upon this ribbon of ice, when it seemed so easy for it to
whirl off into space.

Now the gap was immediately in front of them. "God help us!" he
murmured, or rather thought, for there was no time for words, and they
had left the road of ice and were flying through the air as though the
stone which carried them were a living thing, that, seeing the peril,
had gathered up its energies and sprung forward for its life.

What happened? Leonard never knew for certain, and Otter swore that his
heart leaped from his bosom and stood in front of his eyes so that he
could not see. Before they touched the further point of ice--while
they were in the air, indeed--they, or rather Leonard, heard a hideous
scream, and felt a jerk so violent that his hold of the stone was
loosened, and it passed from beneath them. Then came a shock, less heavy
than might have been expected, and lo! they were spinning onwards down
the polished surface of the ice, while the stone which had borne them so
far sped on in front like a horse that has thrown its rider.

Leonard felt the rubbing of the ice burn him like hot iron. He felt also
that his ankle was freed from the hand that had held it, then for some
minutes he knew no more, for his senses left him. When they returned, it
was to hear the voice of Otter crying, "Lie still, lie still, Baas, do
not stir for your life; I come."

Instantly he was wide awake, and, moving his head ever so little, saw
their situation. Then he wished that he had remained asleep, for it was
this:

The impetus of their rush had carried them almost to the line where the
ice stopped and the rock and snow began, within some fifteen feet of it,
indeed. But those fifteen feet were of the smoothest ice and very sheer,
so smooth and sheer that no man could hope to climb them. Below them the
slope continued for about thirteen or fourteen yards, till it met the
corresponding incline that led to the gap in the bridge.

On this surface of ice they were lying spread-eagled. For a moment
Leonard wondered