r surface of ice which they would
have covered.

To come within a few yards of the hole, slide to the edge of it on his
chest, with both snow-shoes spread out under that, by way of diffusing
his weight over as much surface as possible, was the work of only a few
minutes. But by that time the perishing man was almost incapable of
helping himself. The great difficulty that the rescuer experienced was
to rouse Lumley once more to action, for the torpor that precedes death
had already set in, and to get on his knees on the edge of the ice, so
as to have power to raise his friend, would only have resulted in the
loss of his own life as well. To make sure that he should not let go
his hold and slip, Big Otter tied the end of his long worsted belt round
his friend's right wrist.

"Now," he said, earnestly, "try once more."

"Too late--too late! God bless you, Big--" He stopped, and his eyes
closed!

"No!" cried the Indian, vehemently, giving the perishing man's head a
violent shake--then, putting his mouth close to his ear, added in a deep
tone--"Not too late for the Master of Life to save. Think! The
dark-haired pale-face waits for you."

This was a judicious touch. The energy which could not be aroused by
any consideration of self was electrified by the thought of the waiting
wife. Lumley made one more desperate effort and once again cried to God
for help. Both acts contributed to the desired end, and were themselves
an answer to the prayer of faith. Mysterious connection! Hope revived,
and the vital fluid received a fresh impulse. In the strength of it
Lumley raised himself so far out of the water that the Indian was able
to drag half his body on the ice, but the legs still hung down.
Creeping back a few feet, the Indian, still lying flat on his face, cut
a hole in the ice with his hatchet into which he stuck his toe, and
seized hold of the end of his worsted belt.

"That's right," said his friend, faintly--"wait."

Big Otter knew that full consciousness had returned. He waited while
Lumley, gently paddling with his legs, got them into a horizontal
position.

"Now!" cried Lumley.

The Indian pulled--softly at first, then vigorously, and Lumley slid
fairly on the ice. The rest, though still dangerous, was easy. In a
few minutes more the red-man had the pale-face stripped beside a rousing
fire in the wigwam--and thus he brought him back to life from the very
gates of death.

"You have saved me, my