man she meant to marry lie dead before her eyes. If she turned
shaky, or cried, I could never save her. For the bit of lake in front of
us was ten times worse than what we'd crossed. I knew that when I
tightened up the snowshoes silently and led my dream girl out on it. I
would have given half my life for a rope, such as people have on
glaciers. But I had no rope, and each of us would have to run, or sink,
alone.

I meant, of course----But that's no matter. I got Paulette off the
island and, inch by inch, feeling my way, back to the channel where
buoyant water, at least, lay under us. I twisted and turned like a
corkscrew, but I dared not leave it. Once I cautioned Paulette never to
try a short cut, just to keep abreast of me; and twice my heart was in
my mouth at a hollow, instant-long clatter under our shoes. But we got
on over the stuff somehow, leaving holes of blue water in our tracks,
with great gobbets of snow floating in them. The shore lay close in
front of us, with a hard distinct edge of shell ice showing where the
water stopped. I was just going to call out that in ten feet more we'd
be safe over the lolly, when--smash--both of us went through! I thought
I fell a mile before I hit the water that was going to drown us; hit it
knees first, just as I'd gone through, and--I sprawled in icy slush that
rose no higher than my waist. I was in a sort of pocket between two
rocks that were holding up the lolly. There was an avalanche of caving
snow and ice all round me, but I was not drowned or likely to be,--only
I barely thought of it. For I could not see Paulette. Suddenly, past
belief, I heard her scream: "Nicky!"

I fought blindly to the sound of her voice, wormed between my screening
rocks, and shouted as I stood up. She was not even in slush! She had
gone through shell ice to bare ground, a long strip of bare ground that
led straight to the Halfway shore; roofed, high above my head, with
shell ice and lolly that filtered a silver-green light. My dream girl
lay there in her little blue sweater with the wind knocked out of
her--and that was all. I kicked off my snowshoes that were not even
broken and carried her under the ice roof to the Halfway shore. I may
have thanked God aloud; I don't know. Only I carried her, with my face
close to hers, and the slush and snow from her falling over me as I
stumbled under the ice roof to the blessed shore. I had just sense
enough to drop her in the blinding daylight, and drop