oward the hole. Half a minute's cautious squirming brought her hands
to the edge of it; and with a sob of relief she grasped his wrists.
The ice bent under her weight, but it did not break. The icy water,
welling out over it, began to drench her arms and chest.

Very gently she tried to draw Wiggins out over the ice; but she could
not. She could get no grip on it with her toes to drag from.

Wiggins' little face, two feet from her own, was very white; and his
teeth chattered.

She set her teeth and strove to find a hold for her slipping toes. She
could not.

"C-c-can't you p-p-pull m-m-me out?" chattered Wiggins.

"No, not yet," she said hoarsely. "But it's all right. The Terror
will be here in a minute."

She raised her head as high as she could and screamed again.

She listened with all her ears for an answer. A bird squeaked shrilly
on the other side of the field; there was no other sound. Wiggins'
white face was now bluish round the mouth; and his eyes were full of
fear. Again she kicked about for a grip, in vain.

"It's d-d-dreadfully c-c-cold," said Wiggins in a very faint voice; he
began to sob; and his eyes looked very dully into hers.

She knew that it was dreadfully cold; her drenched arms and chest were
dreadfully cold; and he was in that icy water to his shoulders.

"Try to stick it out! Don't give in! It's only a minute or two
longer! The Terror _must_ come!" she cried fiercely.

His eyes gazed at her piteously; and she began to sob without feeling
ashamed of it. Then his eyes filled with that dreadful look of
hopeless bewildered distress of a very sick child; and they rolled in
their sockets scanning the cold sky in desperate appeal.

They terrified Erebus beyond words. She screamed, and then she
screamed and screamed. Wiggins' face was a mere white blur through her
blinding tears of terror.

She knew nothing till her ankles were firmly gripped; and the Terror
cried loudly: "Stop that row!"

She felt him tug at her ankles but not nearly strongly enough to stir
her and Wiggins. He, too, could get no hold on the ice with his toes.

Then he cried: "Squirm round to the left. I'll help you."

He made his meaning clearer by tugging her ankles toward the left; and
she squirmed in that direction as fast as she dared over the bending
ice.

In less than half a minute the Terror got his feet among the roots of a
willow, gripped them with his toes, and with a strong and steady pull