The girl said nothing for a moment, but looked at him with a smile of unutterable tenderness, which he could not see. “I love you!” she said simply. “Now you really know, at last.”
“I knew already,” declared Roy. His voice rang painfully, for he understood how she loved him as he had not understood before, and it seemed as though it must have somehow been his fault. The full strength and nobility and devotion of her passion for him rushed on him. For the first time he saw the splendid heroism of which her untrained nature would have been capable had she met with a different fate, and it filled him with a passion of remorse. “Poor child! poor child! What have I done to be worthy of such love?” he murmured, and feeling for her hand, he found and pressed it, almost caressingly. Then, drawing her to him, he felt for her face, and, taking it between his hands, he drew it closer and kissed her smooth young forehead. “Poor child,” he repeated sadly. There was a shadow of pain in the words.
The girl’s eyes filled and she uttered something that sounded like a sob.
At that instant there was a tremendous explosion below, and soon the ice field started to move again down the current.
The girl started up, and seizing Roy’s hand she pulled him to his feet. “On! on!” she urged. “We must not stop here. The jam has burst and we shall be carried out to sea.” As the field moved, mountains of ice which had piled up because of the jam, toppled over with deafening noise, and for a time no other sound could be heard. Guiding Roy, the girl moved forward as swiftly as possible. The fates were good to them. Before them, and reaching almost to the opposite shore, was one vast stretch of smooth ice. Once upon that they made better progress and Kasba grew hopeful. Moving their feet as if skating, they rapidly drew nearer to the shore. Soon Kasba was able to make out the figures of Sahanderry and the boy David, who stood in perilous positions on top of huge blocks of ice, which the action of the flood had piled up on the shore during the jam. They were waving frantically.
“We are almost there,” Kasba shouted encouragingly in Roy’s ear: “We shall be saved yet.”
But Roy shook his head. He could not understand the words addressed him. Nevertheless he did his best to keep up as the girl dragged him forward.
They were now close, but the ice they were on was fast going down stream, and the two on the ice wall were compelled to scramble along in order to keep abreast. Presently there was a lull in the noise caused by the grinding, screaming ice and they could plainly hear Sahanderry’s voice adjuring them to hasten. Roy raised his voice in a mighty shout in reply, using his fists for a trumpet, and tried to increase his pace, but stumbled at almost every step. However, the girl was possessed of marvellous strength and dragged him by sheer force toward the shore.
And soon they were at the base of the ice wall, which they were passing at a great rate. Sahanderry on the summit above them whirled a coil about his head, then throwing it away from him, it straightened itself out and an end fell at Kasba’s feet. It was the clapmatch line which belonged to the sled. Quickly the girl caught up the end and tied it round Roy’s waist. But, divining her intention, he caught hold of her and despite her struggles would not let her go. The boy and man began to pull upon the line.
The foundations of the ice wall were being undermined by the rushing water and it swayed threateningly. Would it hold a little longer?