t he meant. There was a shadow
of trouble in his face that had nothing to do with his own danger. He
was weighing the possibility of his falling in, and my doing the same
in trying to save him, and Daisy alone on the shore. I gave a cheering
"Go ahead, old fellow!" and he began to push himself back again,
dragging his senseless burden after him by the scarf tied to his arm.

Crack! crack! crack! went the ice all about him, and little tides of
water flooded it. At last it seemed a little firmer. Gerald rose to
his feet, and dragging the boy still in the water after him, began to
walk slowly towards the shore, not seeming to notice how the sharp
edges of the ice cut the face and forehead of the poor half-drowned
boy.

Again the ice began to crack and undulate. Gerald stood still for a
moment, and the piece on which he stood broke away from the rest, and
began to float out. He jumped to the next, which broke, and so to the
next, and the next, till he neared the shore. Then he paused a moment,
and looked at me.

"Go ashore!" he roared like a sea captain.

Then I noticed that I stood on a detached piece of ice, but nearer
land than Gerald. I found no difficulty in gaining the shore.

"Now stand firm and give a hand!" said Gerald.

I grasped his hand, and he jumped ashore, and together we lifted the
boy out of the water. Daisy burst into tears, crying,--

"O, Gerald, Gerald, I thought you'd be drowned!"

Gerald very gently put her clinging arms away from him, saying,
firmly,--

"Don't cry, Daisy. We have our hands full with this poor fellow."

I got the skates off the "poor fellow," and gave them to Daisy to
hold. She, brave little woman, gulped down her tears, and only gave
vent to her emotion, now and then, by a little suppressed sob. Gerald
began beating the hands and breathing into the mouth and nostrils of
the seeming lifeless form before us.

"Is he dead, Gery?" said I.

"No!" said Gerald, fiercely. It was evident that he wouldn't believe
he had gone through so much trouble to bring a dead man ashore. "Look
for his handkerchief, and see if there's a mark on it."

I fished a wet rag out of the wet trousers pocket, and found in one
corner of it the name "Stevens."

"There's a farmer of that name two miles farther on. I don't know any
one else of that name. Must be his son. We'll take him home;" and he
began wrapping his coat about the poor boy; but I insisted on mine
being used for the purpose, as Gerald