Standing now upon the shore, opposite the drifting cake, John Ellison handed one end of the rope to George Warren. Taking the other end, he separated the line into two coils, whirled one about his head and threw it far out. It fell short, splashing into the water. He tried again, and failed. [Illustration: "HE SEPARATED THE LINE INTO TWO COILS, WHIRLED ONE ABOUT HIS HEAD AND THREW IT FAR OUT."] The ice raft, with its four prisoners, was driving faster now, caught by the swifter water. It was nearing the dam. "Let me try once," said George Warren, as they shifted their places farther down shore, following the ice. He went at it more carefully; took time to arrange the coils so they would run free through the air; gave a hard swing to the coil in his right hand and let it fly. Henry Burns, reaching far forward to meet the rope, was almost on the point of grasping it; but it seemed to recede as it fell, losing force and splashing into the water a few feet away. The next moment, Henry Burns was overboard, in the icy water, seizing the end before it sank, upborne as it was by floating ice. He fought his way back, and Harvey and Tim dragged him to safety, chilled, and his teeth chattering. Then the four grasped the rope and held hard. George Warren, with a sailor's instinct, had found a stout bush by the bank and taken a few turns of the rope about that. The cake of ice, arrested in its course, brought up, while the swift running current overflowed it. The four were ankle deep in water. But the rope held. Slowly, but surely, the ice raft yielded to the strain. It came in, out of the rush of the current, into quieter water. It touched the shore--and the yawning brink of the dam was only a few rods away. They were ashore now and running for the mill, where there was a fire that would warm them. They were half frozen, with the chilling of the water and with the fright. Even Colonel Witham, mindful now of the situation, was there to let them in and allow them the warmth of the fire. "You're soaking wet," he said to Henry Burns. "There's some old clothes that Jim Ellison left, hanging in that closet on the floor above. They'll swallow you, but they're dry." Henry Burns darted up the stairs. As he did so, the stairs trembled and shook beneath his feet. The whole mill seemed to be quivering on its foundations. At the same moment, a cry went up from the outside that the dam had given way. The crowd gathered on the bank saw a piece of the dam suddenly collapse, through which aperture a mass of logs, grinding blocks of ice and debris from up stream tore its way. Then screams came from the mill. Terrified, the crowd, gazing, saw one side of it totter and sway. The sound of wrenching timbers, collapsing frame-work and the twisting of iron filled the air.