“Hurrah for Peter! That was a masterly jump!” shouted the boys. “Viggo can never do that, he is too small,” said one.
Viggo knew this was the test, and his heart beat fast. He ran with all his might. Viggo flew over like a bird, and there was at least four inches between his skates and the topmost cap. Then the boys crowded around him and shouted that Viggo was the champion. But Peter Lightfoot looked at him with a sly and evil eye, and you could see he was planning to play a trick on him. And, indeed, that’s what he did.
After a little while Peter took an apple out of his pocket and rolled it over the ice toward the airhole. “The one who dares to go for the apple may keep it!” he called. And many dared to try that, for the apple had not rolled far and the ice was strong enough. Now Peter threw an apple farther out, someone got that too. But at last he rolled one that stopped right on the edge of the open water. One boy after the other ran out toward it, but when the ice began to crack they slowly turned around again.
“Don’t do it, it is dangerous!” shouted Viggo.
“Oh, yes, Viggo is great when things are easy, but if there is danger he turns pale as a ghost,” said Peter, and laughed aloud.
This was more than Viggo could bear. He thought of what the Prince of Augustenburg had said before the front, and he thought he must fetch the apple, come what might. But he forgot that “retreat” had been called, for his father had forbidden him to go near the hole. Allarm looked at him with grave eyes and wagged his tail slowly; he did not dare to whine. But that did not help. Viggo ran so that the wind whistled about his ears. The ice bent under his feet and cracked, but he glided on and on, and the ice did not break. Now he was close by the apple; he bent down to pick it up—crash! The ice broke, and Viggo, head first, fell in.
In a minute his head appeared above the hole. He swam for the ice and seized the edge, but a piece broke off every time he tried to climb up.
At first the boys stood there dumb with fright. Then they all called to him that he must try to hold on, but no one dared to help him, and no one thought of running for help. Peter Lightfoot had sneaked away when Viggo fell in.
The best one of them all was Allarm. First he ran yelping around the hole, but when he saw Viggo appear again he snatched his wet cap between his teeth and as fast as an arrow he ran toward home. When he reached the cottage of Hans the Grenadier the old soldier was just standing in the open doorway. The dog put Viggo’s stiff frozen cap at his feet, whined and cried, jumped up on the old man, held on to his coat and dragged him toward the ice. Hans understood right away what was the matter, snatched a rope and ran toward the lake, and in no time he stood by the hole. He threw the rope to Viggo, who had begun to grow stiff from the icy bath, and pulled him out.
Viggo ran as fast as he could to the cottage of Hans, and when he reached the door he had an armor of shining ice over his whole body. When the Grenadier pulled off the boy’s trousers they could stand by themselves on the floor; they were frozen stiff.