The boy's heart beat, his panting breath seemed to suffocate him, the strain had been so fearful; now he could do no more, he seemed to make no effort to save himself.
"Harry! Harry!" cried Gladys; "you must try more! I'm all right and can help you--see, I am here close by!" she cried, frantic with terror. "It will be all right directly," she added bravely as she lay flat down and crept up to the edge of the ice.
The boy heard her encouraging words, but still made no progress.
"You are not doing your best, Harry! Think of me, if not of yourself. Remember, I am alone and so frightened. Oh! do be quick. Here, take hold of my hands."
This time her words went home, and the boy, half-paralysed with cold and completely worn out, remembered his responsibility.
"Come along, Harry--hold hard! Yes, I can bear the weight!" called out the courageous girl as she lay in her freezing garments on the ice, the strain of the lad's weight dragging her arms almost from their sockets.
At last their pluck was rewarded. Heaven was good to them, and Harry Elliott, trembling in every limb, his teeth chattering, his face pale as the moon, stood by Gladys on solid ice. There was no time to waste in words, the boy merely stretched out his hand to the exhausted girl and started across the lake to the nearest house.
Not a word was spoken; they just sped onward, at first slowly and laboriously, until the blood began to circulate and progress became easier. When they reached the shore, they stood encased in solid ice, their wet clothes frozen stiff by the keen frost of the glorious night.
Not for some days did Gladys betray any signs of the mental shock she had received. Anxious parents and a careful doctor kept her in bed for a week, while Harry occupied his usual place at the bank.
It was during that week that the change in Gladys took place. She had plenty of time for thought. Recollections of her nearness to death, of her horror while under the ice, of her terror when saved, of seeing her brave rescuer sink, all these scenes made a deep and lasting impression on her, and she realised that life can never be made up of pleasures only.
When she met the rest of the "Bunch," her quietness puzzled them, her determination to go no more on the ice distressed them. But in her own heart Gladys felt that she had gained by her approach to death, for in the deadly struggle she had been brought near to God. As for Harry Elliott, need I forecast the trend of the two lives that were so nearly taken away together?