Chet would have liked to be on shore at that very moment himself. He swiftly drew the sled around the upper end of the open piece of water. The ice was “bucking” under his feet, and scarcely had they got away from the water when the crack extended clear across the cove and the floe drifted away. “Hurrah!” shouted the boy, his courage rising again. “We’re well rid of that old place.” “Oh, isn’t it good that we got away from there?” Carolyn May remarked. “Why! we might have drifted right out into the middle of the lake and been home too late for supper.” Chet had no rejoinder to make to this. He realised that the entire surface of the cove ice was breaking up. Again and again the shattering sounds announced the splitting of the ice floes. He hastened on towards the sound of the tolling bell, sharply on the watch for other breaks in the ice. Here was another—a wide-spreading crevasse filled with black water. Chet had no idea to which direction he should turn. And, indeed, it seemed to him as though the opening was growing wider each moment. The ice on which they stood must be completely severed from that further up in the inlet! The boy had become frightened. Carolyn May had little idea of their danger. Prince sat up and howled. It seemed to the boy as though they were in desperate straits, indeed. “You’ve got to be a brave girl, Car’lyn May,” he said. “I’m goin’ to swim across this place and then drag you over. You stick to the sled and you won’t scarcely get wet even.” “Oh, Chet! but _you’ll_ get wet!” she cried. “And your mother’ll punish you, Chet Gormley!” “Oh, no, she won’t,” replied the boy, with a hysterical laugh. “Don’t you fear. Now, sit right still.” He had untied one end of the sled rope and looped it around his wrist. The open water was not more than eight feet across. He knew it was going to be an exceedingly cold plunge, but he saw no other way of overcoming the difficulty. Prince began to bark madly when the boy sat down and thrust his legs into the black water. The chill of it almost took Chet’s breath away when he finally slid down, shoulder deep, into the flood. “Oh, Chet! don’t you _dare_ get drownd-ed!” begged Carolyn May, terrified now by the situation. He turned a bright face on her as he struck out for the edge of the other ice floe. Chet might not have been the wisest boy who ever lived, but he was brave, in the very best sense of the word. “Don’t worry about me, Car’lyn May,” he chattered. The desperate chill of the water almost stopped the boy’s heart. The shock of this plunge into the icy depths was sufficient to kill a weak person. But Chet Gormley had plenty of reserve strength, whether he was noted for good sense or not.