Upon Leslie broaching his decision to Petrovitch, the Russian objected. He felt quite capable of going alone, he declared; but Leslie was equally firm in his resolve.
Finally Petrovitch gave way, merely stipulating that they must be roped when crossing the crevasse, and that Leslie should lead.
"My young friend," he explained, "if the ice should give way, you would fall. I, being great in size, could easily hold you, but if I went first and dropped into the crevasse you would not be able to save me; and, more, I would drag you after me. Is not that clear?"
Leslie nodded.
"Very good," he assented. "I'll go first."
No doubt the ice bridge over the abyss had been hidden in snow when the two Russians passed over it on their dash for Desolation Inlet. The strong wind, following the blizzard before the snow had time to congeal, had uncovered the rotten ice and now revealed the danger.
Leslie advanced cautiously and with considerable fear. Even the fact that he was secured by a rope hardly minimised the sense of dread that the "ground" might give way under him with hardly any warning. He was seized by a momentary desire to retrace his steps, but realising that the Russian was following, and that he, an Englishman, had to "keep his end up," the lad progressed steadily.
The scope of the rope was insufficient to bridge the entire crevasse. Long before Leslie gained the firm ice on the farther side, Petrovitch was crossing the treacherous belt.
Leslie recalled the Russian's words. "If I dropped into the crevasse, you would not be able to save me; and, more, I would drag you after me."
Just then Leslie felt the rope give. Turning his head, he saw that Petrovitch had cast off the life-line, and was lying full length upon the thin crust of ice.