“Yes, you do, a lot; the Doctor—Bill——” “Back!” cried Finch sharply. “Don’t try to sneak up on me. Let me alone. Maybe I’ll write and let you know where I am. But I am going to cut out to-night.” Tony glanced at Jimmie who was close by his side. “Let’s risk it, Jim,” he whispered, “he can only hit one of us, I reckon.” “All right—heave ahead!” Jimmie responded in a low tone. Without wasting further words the two boys began to dash up the steep bank. “Get down there!” Finch yelled. “I’m going to throw.” He raised his arm, but something paralyzed his vicious intention. It seemed to him that he tried to throw and could not. The big stone fell crashing from his hand, and rolled harmlessly down the bank. Finch turned, and with a cry sprang toward the icy surface of the Pond. When the boys got to the top of the bank, he was already a dozen feet out on the Pond. “For God’s sake, Jake, don’t try to cross the Pond. The ice is rotten.” Tony and Jimmie were now at the edge of the shore. “The ice is rotten.” Deering repeated, “it can’t hold you.” “I’m all right enough, I guess,” Finch called back. “I’m light enough. So long!” The two boys stood breathless, watching the retreating figure. “What’ll we do,” exclaimed Jimmie, turning a ghastly face to his friend. “It won’t hold him.” “No, I know it won’t.... Jake! Jake!” Tony called. There was no reply. “Quick!” exclaimed Deering, “get those planks there—we’ll run ‘em along the ice, and have something to hold to if we go in. We’ve got to follow. Quick, Jim!” They dashed to a point a few yards up the shore where some heavy planks had been placed by the skaters early in the season to serve as seats in putting on and taking off their skates. It was the work of a second to rip up two of them, and slide them out on the ice in the direction Finch had gone. By this time the runaway boy was about twenty yards from shore, he had stopped for the moment and was watching them curiously. When he saw them slide the planks out, he started again, heading for the opposite bank from which the dark woods loomed up. They could see him distinctly, trying to slide, his foot catching every second in the soft ice. Suddenly there was a cry. “There he goes!” cried Jimmie, as Finch disappeared beneath the ice. They pushed breathlessly, incautiously forward, sending the planks on ahead of them. Finch rose in the middle of the great hole that his plunge had made. They could hear him sputter and see him splash helpless in the pool of dark water and broken bits of rotten ice. He could swim, and had got to the edge of the circle of water, and was clutching desperately at the firmer ice. But each time it gave way, enlarging the hole, but bringing the boy very little nearer his would-be rescuers. “Stick to it, Jake!” Tony called. “We’ll get you out, if you can hold out. Quick, Jim. Slide the plank out.”