“They are gone, Bekothrie,” affirmed the girl.
“Very well,” said Roy, “let us go too.” The girl took his hand again, and they went on their way. Their progress was necessarily slow. Their path was strewn with pitfalls for Roy’s feet, and soon the girl was panting from her exertions in keeping him upright, but within her delicate body there dwelt an unconquerable spirit.
Reaching a comparatively smooth surface they skated along with increased speed. There were puddles of water which they could not avoid. Cracks more or less wide open barred their way, and guided by the girl Roy crossed them, jumping easily or exerting himself to the utmost, according to the emergency. But more than one opening was too wide to allow of any assistance from Kasba’s helping hand, and he had to make the attempt entirely by her direction. All this was very wearying, for however careful he might be, he was bound to expend a great deal of strength to no purpose. It is one thing to jump with eye and muscle acting together, and another to do it blindly, as everybody knows. Poor Roy!
At times there were gaps which neither could leap. They skirted these, walking as fast as possible. Out of breath and entirely worn out with fatigue, Roy would often fall in a heap upon the ice to rest. He was cold and disheartened, and would have given up altogether if it had not been for the girl’s presence, for he valued his life not a jot since his terrible affliction. Therefore his own danger appealed less to him than the girl’s situation. It seemed such a terrible thing that she should lose her bright young life in trying to save his, which was worthless. He well knew that by herself the girl could have crossed the river safely, for she was fearless and as agile as a cat, springing and climbing with the greatest ease.
Then the ice started to rock beneath their feet. “Hurry—hurry!” cried Kasba, dragging him forward with the desperate energy of a man. “We have not a moment to lose if we would save our lives.”
“Leave me,” said Roy withdrawing his hand, “and save yourself.”
For a moment the girl gazed at him in horrified surprise. “Leave you!” she exclaimed in a tone that was unmistakable. “I will not leave you.” There was a power in her tone that struck him with amazement.
“But I keep you back.”
“Nevertheless, I will not leave you,” repeated the girl firmly.
In spite of their desperate situation Roy could not help smiling. He realized that their positions had suddenly changed; it was the girl’s spirit which now predominated. “Very well, then,” he said, giving her his hand again. “Go on.” The thundering of the broken ice floes, the grinding of the smaller pieces against each other, made conversation difficult. Here and there the force of the flood piled up mountains of cakes which, after a moment, toppled over with a deafening crash.