“Quick—help,” panted the small boy. “The Clown has broken through the ice, and—and he—he can’t get out! Quick—help!”
“Land sakes,” cried the General, “where’s the Clown!”
“He’s over in the chicken yard, in a pan of wa-water,” gasped the small boy.
With all speed the Teenie Weenies made their way to the chicken yard. As they hurried up to the pan they could hear the Clown faintly crying for help. The Turk and the Cook boosted the Sailor up to the top of the pan, where he caught on, and pulled himself over the edge. The poor Clown’s head was only just out of the water, and he was holding fast to the edge of the ice.
“Throw me a board or a match, or something strong,” shouted the Sailor to the others, waiting below. At once the little people began to dig about in the snow for the desired board.
“Oh dear,” cried the Dunce, “if we only had a straw! I’ve always heard that a drowning man catches at a straw!”
“Here,” shouted the Old Soldier. “Here’s a burnt match, but it’s frozen to the ground!”
The Turk grabbed the match and with a mighty heave he pulled it free and threw it up to the waiting Sailor. The Sailor carefully pushed the match out across the hole, and with its help he soon pulled the half frozen Clown from the water.
The poor fellow was carried quickly to the shoe house, where he was given a hot bath, wrapped up in a warm comforter and set before the fireplace. The Cook made cocoa for the Clown and brought it to him steaming hot.