He ran on for several yards, heedless of his peril. Then he struck the thin shell of ice on an air-hole, and like a flash he vanished from the eyes of his horrified companions.
CHAPTER VIII.
MR. RAIKES OF PORTLAND.
The catastrophe was one of appalling swiftness. Brick and Hamp could scarcely realize what had happened. The hole that had swallowed Jerry up yawned at their very feet.
It was less than two feet in diameter, and its edges were jagged. The surface of the deep, blue water went swirling around and around, as though an under-current existed. Doubtless there was one, and it had sucked Jerry far down. He did not reappear, though the boys strained their eyes on the fatal spot. The seconds went by—twenty—half a minute.
Hamp uttered a groan of agony.
“Jerry, Jerry!” he cried aloud.
“Look out!” exclaimed Brick, as he dragged him back. “You’ll go in, too. It’s all up with poor Jerry. There’s no hope—not an atom.”