“Yes, you do, a lot; the Doctor—Bill——”
“Back!” cried Finch sharply. “Don’t try to sneak up on me. Let me alone. Maybe I’ll write and let you know where I am. But I am going to cut out to-night.”
Tony glanced at Jimmie who was close by his side. “Let’s risk it, Jim,” he whispered, “he can only hit one of us, I reckon.” “All right—heave ahead!” Jimmie responded in a low tone.
Without wasting further words the two boys began to dash up the steep bank.
“Get down there!” Finch yelled. “I’m going to throw.” He raised his arm, but something paralyzed his vicious intention. It seemed to him that he tried to throw and could not. The big stone fell crashing from his hand, and rolled harmlessly down the bank. Finch turned, and with a cry sprang toward the icy surface of the Pond. When the boys got to the top of the bank, he was already a dozen feet out on the Pond.
“For God’s sake, Jake, don’t try to cross the Pond. The ice is rotten.” Tony and Jimmie were now at the edge of the shore. “The ice is rotten.” Deering repeated, “it can’t hold you.”
“I’m all right enough, I guess,” Finch called back. “I’m light enough. So long!”
The two boys stood breathless, watching the retreating figure.
“What’ll we do,” exclaimed Jimmie, turning a ghastly face to his friend. “It won’t hold him.”
“No, I know it won’t.... Jake! Jake!” Tony called.