Without waiting to think why, Jimmieboy obeyed the voice and threw himself headlong into a huge snow bank at his side, and glanced anxiously about him.
He was indeed, as the voice had said, on the very edge of the ice, and another yard's advance would have landed him head over heels in the rushing water.
"That would have been awful, wouldn't it?" he said to the Stove, as his little friend came up.
"Yes, it would," returned the Stove. "It would have put out the lights in your clothes, and that would have been very awful, for I find we have come away without any matches. Jump into the boat, now, and row as straight for the other side as you can."
Jimmieboy looked about him for a boat, but couldn't see one.
"There is no boat," he said.
"Yes, there is—jump!" cried the Stove.
And Jimmieboy jumped, and, strange to relate, found himself in an instant seated amidships in an exquisitely light row-boat made entirely of ice.
"Row fast, now," said the Stove. "If you don't the boat will melt before we can get across."