“B-b-barry Spink,” chattered young Stevens. “Don’t y-y-you know—know Barrington Spink, Dan? Lem-lem-lemme present you.”
This introduction seemed a little unnecessary, for the next moment Dan Speedwell seized Barrington Spink by the wrist and fairly “yanked” him out of the water. Young Spink was all but helpless from cold and exhaustion.
As Dan backed away from the hole, dragging Spink with him, Billy swarmed over them both and seized upon Monroe Stevens.
“Hold tight, old man,” he cried. “We’ll get you out.”
“All—all right,” chattered Stevens. “But d-d-don’t be too-o-o long about it, Billy. They certainly for—for—forgot to heat th—this bawth!”
Billy clutched him tightly by the collar and in a few moments he felt Dan tugging at his own heels. Barry Spink was lying, panting, on the ice—but fast freezing to it, for the thermometer was still far down the scale.
“Come on! come on!” gasped Billy, when the four of them were on their feet. “Let’s get where there’s a fire.”
“Y—y—you bet!” agreed Monroe Stevens. “I—I never was so shivery in—in all—all my life!”
Spink could hardly speak. But he moaned occasionally something about the lost iceboat, which he called the White Albatross.
“Goodness knows!” chattered Stevens, “we deserved to lose the silly thing. I knew better than to try her out to-day—and I—I told you so, Barry.”