Grace ran blindly ahead, dragging the plank alone.

“He’s feeble-minded,” she quivered.  “I suppose I shall have to work this thing by myself.”

When she had reached the bank, Grace heard him trotting behind her with his little wagon.  In another moment there was a tug at the board.  She turned and shook her fist angrily at him; but, without regarding her in the least, he lifted the plank and rested it on the wagon.  Then motioning her to hold up the back end, he started on a run down the bank.

“The poor soul thinks he’s a horse, I suppose” she said to herself, “but what difference does it make, if we can only get the plank to Tom and Julia?”

Grace soon saw, however, that the idea was not entirely idiotic.  Later she was to offer up a prayer of thanks for that same child’s wagon.  The deaf and dumb man was wearing heavy Arctic rubbers, which kept him from slipping; while Grace, whose soles were as smooth as glass, kept her balance admirably by means of the other end of the plank.

Tom and Julia Crosby had now been nearly ten minutes in the water.  Twice the ice had broken under Tom’s grasp, while Julia, who seemed unable to help herself, had thrown all her weight on the poor boy, while she called wildly for help and heaped Grace with reproaches for running away.

“If it were not for the fact that it would be the act of a coward,” exclaimed Tom at last, his teeth chattering with cold, “I would let go of your arm and give up the job of supporting you in this ice water for talking about Grace like that.  Of course she has gone for help.  Haven’t you found out long ago that she is the right sort?”

“Well, why did she go in the wrong direction?” sobbed Julia.  “Everybody is over on the other bank.  There is nothing but an ice house over here.”

“You may trust to her to have had some good, sensible reason,” retorted Tom loyally.

“I don’t think I can keep up much longer,” exclaimed Julia, beginning to cry again.

“Keep on crying,” replied Tom exasperated.  “It will warm you—­and remember that I am doing the keeping up.  I don’t see that you are making any special effort in that direction.”

Once Tom had endeavored to lift Julia out of the hole, and he believed, and always insisted, in telling the story afterwards, that if she had been willing to help herself it could have been accomplished.  But Julia Crosby, triumphant leader of her class, and Julia Crosby cold and wet as a result of her own recklessness, were two different beings altogether.

“Grace Harlowe has left us to drown,” she sobbed.  “I am so wretched.  She is a selfish girl.”

“No such thing,” replied Tom vigorously.  “Here she comes now, bringing help as I expected I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself.”  He gave a sigh of relief when he saw Grace and the strange man approaching at a quick trot, the wagon and plank between them.  His confidence in Grace had not been misplaced.  He felt that they would soon be released from their perilous predicament.