There was frenzy behind that throw.  Hurrah!  There was four feet of rope to spare as it splashed into the open part where Dick still hung, though he was fast weakening.

“There’s a noose on the end—–­I fixed it, Dick!  Get it over your head and under your shoulders!” bawled Dave Darrin.

It was only the coolness of a last desperate hope that enabled the freshman to adjust the noose sufficiently.

“All r-r-r-i-ight!” he called, unable to make any further effort to stop the rattling of his teeth.

“Come on, then!” cheered Dave.

It was team play between two freshmen, but it was worked out.  Dick, after a while, reached solid ice.  Tom Reade and Dan Dalzell risked themselves a good deal in going far out to meet him.  But they got their leader and rushed him toward the cove.

Soon a dozen H.S. boys were running around Dick.  Some of them had him upon their shoulders; others were trying to help.

As they rushed him across the cove to the sleigh that had just arrived, the cheering was deafening.

Others in the crowd had already run up along the road, which was lined as Dick and Darrin were driven along as fast as the horse could go.  Tom Reade stood on the runners behind.  As soon as the door of the hotel was reached, Reade aided the driver in rushing the boys inside.

Even here the cheering followed them in volleys.

“Come on—–­into a cold room with you, at first,” ordered Dr. Gilbert, appearing, while a dozen H.S. boys came in his wake.  “You don’t want to get near a fire yet.  Strip them, both, lads, and rub them down for all you’re worth.  Don’t mind peeling a little skin off!”

Dick and Dave were rushed into a room.  With so many hands to help, they were soon stripped.  Then rough Turkish towels were plied upon them until even their skins began to show the red of blood and life.

“Now, wrap blankets about them, and bring them into a warm room,” ordered the doctor.

As they entered the other room they espied Fred Ripley, already seated in an arm-chair by the stove, a bowl of something hot in one hand.

The driver of the sleigh now came in.

“You lads will want something warm and dry to put on,” he declared.  “Give me your orders.  The distance isn’t far.  I’ll drive to your homes and get the clothes and things that you want.”

“No, thank you,” returned Ripley, stiffly.  “I’ve already had a telephone message sent, and my father’s auto will bring out what I need.”

“But you youngsters will want something?” asked the driver, turning to the plucky freshmen.

Dick and Dave stated their requests, Prescott adding: 

“But please be sure to make our parents understand that we’re safe.  We don’t want them seared to death.”

Fred Ripley took a long swallow of the steaming stuff in his bowl.  As he did so he took a furtive glance in the direction of the freshmen.