There was another crash. With another yell, Ripley sank again, to the horror of those on shore.
But Prescott did not see this. The freshman, after trying to calculate the exact distance across the intervening ice, dived below the glassy surface. He was swimming, now, under the ice. As he swam the freshman kept his eyes open, swimming close to the ice, yet not touching it.
So he came up, in the open. But where was Fred?
"Ripley just sank!" came the hoarse chorus from shore and cove.
This was serious enough. He who sinks for the second time in icy waters, especially when hampered by skates, may very likely not come up again.
"It must have been about here that he went down," calculated Prescott, deliberately, as he swam through the open water. "Now, then!"
Down went Dick. To those looking on, it was heroic—-sublime?
Yet it looked as though the rescuer must be dooming himself.
"One Prescott is worth a dozen Ripleys" murmured one man who, unable to swim, was obliged to stand looking uselessly on.
There were still many who were shouting confusing advice as to what others ought to do. A few were even running about trying to do something.
Dave Darrin was actually "on the job."