"I must, I must," gasped Hugh, between his clinched teeth.
"You shall not," said the other self, mad with terror. "Hold on to the ice."
Hugh saw his bleeding hands holding tightly to the jagged edge. It broke. He clutched another piece. It broke again. The current was sucking him slowly under the ice. The broken pieces pushed him. One arm was under already, and he could not get it out. The animal horror of a trap seized him. He had not known it would be like this. He was not prepared for this.
The other self fought furiously for life, clutching and tearing at the breaking ice.
"Call," it said to him, "while there is still time."
Hugh set his teeth.
The ice broke in a great piece and tilted heavily against him. It was over one shoulder.
"Call," said the other self, sharply, again, "or you will be under the ice."
And up to the quiet heaven rose once and again a hoarse, wild cry of human agony and despair.