Percy darted off at a tangent, leaving Jeffreys, cool in body and mind, to await his return. To an ordinarily excitable person, the position was a critical one. The water was numbing; the ice at the edge of the hole was rotten, and broke away with every effort he made to climb on to it; even Julius, floundering beside him, bewildered, and at times a dead weight on his arms and neck, was embarrassing. Jeffreys, however, did not exhaust himself by wild struggles. He laid his stick across the corner of the hole where the ice seemed firmest, and with his arms upon it propped himself with tolerable security. He ordered the dog out of the water and made him lie still at a little distance on the ice. He even contrived to kick off one boot, skate and all, into the water, but was too numbed to rid himself of the other.
It seemed an eternity while Scarfe and Percy approached with the ladder, with Raby, terrified and pale, hovering behind.
“Don’t come nearer,” he shouted, when at last they got within reach. “Slide it along.”
They pushed it, and it slipped to within a yard of him.
Julius, who appeared to have mastered the situation, jumped forward, and fixing his teeth in the top rung, dragged it the remaining distance.
The remainder was easy. Scarfe crawled along the ladder cautiously till within reach of the almost exhausted Jeffreys, and caught him under the shoulder, dragging him partially up.
“I can hold now,” said Jeffreys, “if you and Percy will drag the ladder. Julius, hold me, and drag too.”
This combined effort succeeded. A minute later, Jeffreys, numbed with cold but otherwise unhurt, was being escorted on his one skate between Percy and Scarfe for the shore, where Raby awaited him with a look that revived him as nothing else could.