Captain rose from his cramped seat, and, ripping his crackling garments from the boat where they had frozen, he wriggled out of the hole in the deck and grasped the weeping Barton.

“Come, come, old boy!  It’s all right now,” he said.

“Oh, Charlie, Charlie!” cried the other.  “I might have known you’d try to save us.  You’re just in time, though, for the Kid’s about all in.”  Sullivan apathetically nodded and sat down again.

“Hurry up there; this ain’t no G. A. R. Encampment, and you ain’t got no time to spare,” said George, who had dragged the canoe out and, with a paddle, broke the sheets of ice which covered it.  “It’ll be too dark to see anything in half an hour.”

The night, hastened by the storm, was closing rapidly, and they realized another need of haste, for, even as they spoke, a crack had crawled through the ice-floe where they stood, and, widening as it went, left but a heaving cake supporting them.

George spoke quietly to Captain, while Barton strove to animate the Kid.  “You and Barton must take him ashore and hurry him down to the village.  He’s most gone now.”

“But you?” questioned the other.  “We’ll have to come back for you, as soon as we put him ashore.”

“Never mind me,” roughly interrupted George.  “It’s too late to get back here.  When you get ashore it’ll be dark.  Besides Sullivan’s freezing, and you’ll have to rush him through quick.  I’ll stay here.”

“No!  No!  George!” cried the other, as the meaning of it bore in upon him.  “I got you into this thing, and it’s my place to stay here.  You must go—­”

But the big man had hurried to Sullivan, and, seizing him in his great hands, shook the drowsy one like a rat, cursing and beating a goodly share of warmth back into him.  Then he dragged the listless burden to the canoe and forced him to a seat in the middle opening.

“Come, come,” he cried to the others; “you can’t spend all night here.  If you want to save the Kid, you’ve got to hurry.  You take the front seat there, Barton,” and, as he did so, George turned to the protesting Captain:  “Shut up, curse you, and get in!”

“I won’t do it,” rebelled the other.  “I can’t let you lay down your life in this way, when I made you come.”

George thrust a cold face within an inch of the other’s and grimly said:  “If they hadn’t stopped me, I’d beat you into dog-meat this morning, and if you don’t quit this snivelling I’ll do it yet.  Now get in there and paddle to beat ——­ or you’ll never make it back.  Quick!”

“I’ll come back for you then, George, if I live to the shore,” Captain cried, while the other slid the burdened canoe into the icy waters.

As they drove the boat into the storm, Captain realized the difficulty of working their way against the gale.  On him fell the added burden of holding their course into the wind and avoiding the churning ice cakes.  The spray whipped into his face like shot, and froze as it clung to his features.  He strained at his paddle till the sweat soaked out of him and the cold air filled his aching lungs.