When Alexander moved to put his gaff in the water the pan tipped again. Donald came near losing his footing. He moved nearer the edge, and the pan came to a level. They paddled with all their strength, for the wind was blowing against them, and there was need of haste if three passages were to be made. Meanwhile the gap had grown so wide that the wind had turned the ripples into waves, which washed over the pan as high as Donald’s ankles. But they came safe across. Bludd stepped quickly ashore, and Donald pushed off. With the wind in his favor, he was soon once more at the other side. “Now, Bill,” said North, “your turn next.” “I can’t do it, Job,” said Stevens. “Get aboard yourself. The lad can’t come back again. We’re driftin’ out too fast. He’s your lad, an’ you’ve the right to—” “Iss, I can come back,” said Donald. “Come on, Bill! Quick!” Stevens was a lighter man than Alexander Bludd, but the passage was wider, and still widening, for the pack had gathered speed. When Stevens was safely landed, he looked back. A vast white shadow was all that he could see. Job North’s figure had been merged with the night. “Donald, b’y,” he said, “you got to go back for your father, but I’m fair feared you’ll never—” “Give me a push, Bill,” said Donald. Stevens caught the end of the gaff and pushed the lad out. “Good-by, Donald!” he said. When the pan touched the other side, Job North stepped aboard without a word. He was a heavy man. With his great body on the ice-cake, the problem of return was enormously increased, as Donald had foreseen. The pan was overweighted. Time and again it nearly shook itself free of its bad load and rose to the surface. North stood near the center, plying his gaff with difficulty, but Donald was on the extreme edge. Moreover, the distance was twice as great as it had been at the first, and the waves were running high, and it was dark. They made way slowly, and the pan often wavered beneath them; but Donald was intent upon the thing he was doing, and he was not afraid. Then came the time—they were but ten yards off the standing edge—when North struck his gaff too deep into the water. He lost his balance, struggled desperately to regain it, failed—and fell off. Before Donald was awake to the danger, the edge of the pan sank under him, and he, too, toppled off. Donald had learned to swim now. When he came to the surface, his father was breast-high in the water, looking for him. “Are you all right, Donald?” said his father. “Iss, zur.” “Can you reach the ice alone?” “Iss, zur,” said Donald quietly. Alexander Bludd and Bill Stevens helped them up on the standing edge, and they were home by the kitchen fire in half an hour. “’Twas bravely done, b’y,” said Job. So Donald North learned that perils feared are much more terrible than perils faced. He has a courage of the finest kind, in these days, has young Donald. A CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE By J. E. Chamberlin