"Run, all of you!" came a furious shout from Ossip. "Hurry up, now! Put your very best legs foremost!"
For myself, as I sprang upon the floe I lost my footing, and, falling headlong and remaining seated on the hither end of the floe amid a shower of spray, saw five of my seven comrades rush past, pushing and jostling, as they made for the shore. But presently the Morduine turned and halted beside me, with the intention of rendering Ossip assistance.
"Run, you young fools!" the latter exclaimed. "Come! Be off with you!"
Somehow in his face there was now a livid, uncertain air, while his eyes had lost their fire, and his mouth was curiously agape.
"No, mate. Do YOU get up," was my counter-adjuration.
"Unfortunately, I have hurt my leg," he replied with his head bent down. "In fact, I am not sure that I can get up."
However, we contrived to raise him and carry him ashore with an arm of his resting on each of our necks. Meanwhile he growled with chattering teeth:
"Aha, you river devils! Drown me if you can! But I've not given you a chance, the Lord be thanked! Hi, look out! The ice won't bear the three of us. Mind how you step, and choose places where the ice is bare of snow. There it's firmer. No, a better plan still would be to leave me where I am."
Next, with a frowning scrutiny of my face, he inquired:
"That notebook of our misdeeds—hasn't it had a wetting and got done for?"