In the first instant that his eyes came above the level of the water, Dick took in the details of Ripley's whereabouts.
Dick had to calculate at lightning speed.
"O Prescott," gasped Fred, when he saw his would-be rescuer, "can't you break the ice between us? I can't keep up much longer."
"Get hold of the edge of the ice, Ripley," called Dick. "Just rest lightly on it. Don't try to make it bear your weight—-it won't! It'll help hold you up, though, if you keep cool."
"Cool?" groaned Fred. "I'm freezing. In pity's name get to me quickly."
Fred was so wholly self-centered that it didn't occur to him that the freshman must be just as chilled as he himself was.
Dick's legs ached with the cold chill of the icy water. He was free of the weight of skates, however, and he trod water during the few seconds that he needed for making up his mind what it was best to do.
Much depended upon the help that those on shore gave, but Dick had left his orders with Dave Darrin, and he trusted the shore end to his capable lieutenant.
Fred, though hardly more than able to keep himself afloat, managed to reach the nearest edge of ice.
He clutched at it eagerly, then, disregarding excellent advice, he tried to climb out upon it.