“Tom! Quick! Help! He’ll be drowned,” yelled Jack at the top of his voice.
CHAPTER II—THE RESCUE OF SANDY.
On the edge of the thin ice that had formed over the top of the water hole was a bucket. It was used to draw the supply of drinking water, and to its handle was attached a long rope. Jack, half beside himself with fright at the sight of Sandy’s plunge and his own narrow escape, stood as if in a trance as he watched Tom swoop down on the pail.
He had hardly done this when Sandy’s face, blue with cold, appeared above the water at the edge of the hole.
“Ouch! Ow-w-w-w-w! Fellows, canna ye get me oot of this before I freeze to death?”
“All right, Sandy old man. Hold on! We’ll get you out!” cried Tom encouragingly.
“It’s cuc-cuc-cold!” stuttered the Scotch youth, his teeth clicking like a running fish reel as he clung desperately to the solid ice at the edge of the hole.
Tom’s answer was a reassuring shout, and, aided by Jack, who had quickly recovered from his temporary paralysis, he came swiftly toward Sandy with the rope from the bucket in his hands. As he skated toward the unfortunate Caledonian youth his hands nimbly made a loop in the rope. He flung this over Sandy’s head and then, with a mighty heave and yank, the two Dacre boys succeeded in rescuing their chum from his unfortunate position.
“Now you get back to the boat as fast as you can,” ordered Tom, half angry and half amused at Sandy’s plight.
“It was Jer-Jer-Jack’s fault!” chattered the unfortunate one.