From his perch upon the iceberg Bobby looked eagerly for Jimmy and the skiff.  He feared that some of the ponderous blocks of ice had fallen upon them and crushed them, and the thought made him heart-sick for an instant.

But presently he saw the skiff, filled with water and smothering in the swell, and a moment later he discovered Jimmy, also smothering in the swell, but swimming vigorously toward the iceberg.  This brought him vast relief.  Jimmy was alive and apparently uninjured, and the whole adventure became to Bobby at once an ordinary occurrence of their every-day life, for which he was mightily thankful.  To be sure it was an unpleasant and annoying adventure, but they would escape from it, he had no doubt, none the worse for their experience.  And in this frame of mind he clambered down the slippery sides of the ice hill to a level spot at the water’s edge, shouting in the most matter-of-fact way, as he did so: 

“This way, Jimmy!  This way!  You can climb aboard here!”

In a few strokes Jimmy came alongside, and Bobby, taking his hand, helped him to scramble, shivering, to the ice.

“My, Bobby, but I was glad to see you here!” Jimmy exclaimed through his chattering teeth.  “I was afraid you were done for!  I was afraid it carried you under when it turned.”

“I was afraid you were done for, too!” and there was thanksgiving in Bobby’s voice.  “How did it happen you got into the water?  Did the ice hit the skiff?”

“I don’t know how it happened,” said Jimmy.  “I don’t think the ice hit the skiff, but it all came so suddenly I don’t know.”

“Well, here we are, and out there’s the boat, and we’ve got to get it,” declared Bobby.  “I’m going for it.”

“No, let me go.  I’m wet anyhow, and I’m all right for it,” Jimmy protested.  “I might have brought it in with me, but I didn’t see it.”

“I’m going,” declared Bobby, with an accent that left no doubt he was, as he pulled off his clothes, and his sealskin boots.  “You’ve had your dip, and I’m going to have one now—­the first of the year.”

“It’s pretty cold,” Jimmy cautioned.  “I’ve been in, and I’m used to it, and don’t mind it.”

But Bobby was in, and swimming for the skiff.  It was, fortunately, not above fifty or sixty feet away, for the whole occurrence had taken place within a very few minutes’ time, and the boat had not yet had time to drift beyond reach.

A few strokes carried Bobby to the submerged skiff.  He secured the painter, which was attached to the bow, and with some hard tugging reached the iceberg, and climbed up with Jimmy’s assistance.

“You’d better take off your things and wring ’em out, while I dress,” Bobby suggested, as he drew his clothes on.

“I guess I had,” Jimmy agreed.

“Now,” said Bobby, when he and Jimmy were dressed, after Jimmy had wrung as much of the water as possible from his clothes, “we’re going to have a hard time of it getting the water out of her.  How’ll we do it?”