At length they grew tired of this, and began to jump upon ticklish points of ice; and as these began to crack and show signs of breaking away, the boys would run, with wild whoops, back to shore, the very danger seeming to add to their enjoyment. Then, with poles and "prys," they would work upon the cracking mass until it floated clear and went whirling down the rapid current. "Ahoy, boys!" called Jule, who was seemingly their leader. "Up yender's a big cake that only wants a shove! Come on! Let's set 'er a-going!" No sooner said than done. Away went the noisy fellows to the projecting point of ice. A few smart jumps sent it creaking and groaning, as though still unwilling to quit its snug winter bed. One more jump, and the boys all ran with a shout beyond the place where the ice was cracking off--all save Jule. It had not broken clear, and he was determined to set it going, when he would spring on the firm ice beyond, as he had done once or twice before. But this time he was over-bold and not sufficiently watchful. A large cake of ice had come floating down the river unnoticed either by him or his friends, and striking the edge of the nearly loosened mass, shoved it out into the swift, black water. Poor Jule! He ran quickly to the freshly-broken edge--but, alas! too late for the intended spring. The swiftly-rushing current had borne him many yards from the shore and from his companions. There he stood--for an instant in dumb amaze--balancing himself upon his rocking raft with the pole he had been using. To attempt to swim ashore would have been useless. He was a clumsy swimmer at best; and the cold, rushing waters and floating ice cakes made swimming almost impossible. He could not get off. To stay seemed sure death. Dumb with fright, for a moment he stood in speechless terror. Then there rang across the wild, black river and through the quiet streets of the village, such a yell of abject fear as only a lusty lad of that age can give. It was a cry that chilled the heart of every one who heard it. A "four-days' meeting" was in session. The village church-goers were just issuing from their houses in answer to the church bell, when that pitiful cry and the shouts of "Help! Help! A boy in the stream!" reached them, and drew them all quickly to the river bank. In a few minutes the shore was lined with excited men and women. Yet all stood helplessly staring, while poor Jule on his ice-raft was floating steadily down toward the falls. Never shall I forget how he looked as he stood there in the middle of his floating white throne! There was something almost heroic in his calm helplessness. For after the first wild cry, he had not once opened his lips.