By this time the woman on the bank understood what she was doing, and ceased shouting. It was Katherine's turn to make a noise now, and she did it with all her might. "Oily Dave, come out! We've got a boat at the back, and we will save you if you will be quick."
She was making so much noise herself, and picking her way with such extreme care over the rotten ice, that she failed to hear the first response to her calling, and the next pulled her up with a jerk.
"Oily Dave isn't here, but if you will take me I shall be very thankful."
The voice was a strange one, and had an unmistakable ring of refinement and culture. Katherine faced round with such a start of surprise as to nearly send her sprawling again, for the ice was full of pitfalls. A young man was leaning out through the small square opening which did duty for a window, and her first impression of him was of someone extremely tired, and that gave her the clue to his identity. He must be the Englishman who had come from Maxokama with the Indians who had brought the mail.
"Open the door and come out that way," she said in a tone of sharp authority. "You will never be able to squeeze through that small window unless your shoulders are very narrow indeed."
"Which they are not," he replied, and disappeared from view.
She heard him banging and tugging at the door, but never a jot did it stir, and after about five minutes of this futile work he appeared again at the window. The water was nearly on a level with the opening now, and rising moment by moment, while there were ominous ripping and rending sounds in Katherine's ice island, which warned her that the rescue must take place in the next few minutes if it was to be effected at all.
"The door is jammed. What am I to do?" the unknown asked in a calm tone, with no flurry or fuss. Indeed, Katherine wondered if he realized how great was his peril and her own.
"Break it down, smash it, anything; only be quick, please," she said sharply, marvelling a little at his unconcern in the face of such grave danger.
Again he disappeared, and Katherine heard a rain of heavy blows beginning to fall upon the door; then with a cracking, splitting noise the panel gave way, the man inside wrenched off the broken part, and stood revealed up to his waist in water. But there was a space of fully three yards between himself and Katherine's island of ice, and, as the ground dropped away sharply in front of the house, she knew he must not venture to attempt wading.