“Katherine, don’t go.  It is an awful risk, and the old man isn’t worth it!” pleaded Miles, and, despite the fact of his being a boy, there were actual tears in his eyes as he urged her not to go.

But she would not listen, calling out sharply:  “Bump her against the ice and then I’ll spring.”

Putting out his strength, Miles brought the boat with a bang against the floating ice island, and at the same moment Katherine sprang lightly from the boat.  But, despite her care, she landed on all-fours, and, as the ice was awash, got rather wet in the process.  Rising to an erect position after a few preliminary staggers, she walked cautiously out towards the middle of the ice island, which would bring her within sight of the prisoner in the hut, and would, she hoped, inspire him with sufficient courage to help him in the task of getting him into the boat.

By this time the woman on the bank understood what she was doing, and ceased shouting.  It was Katherine’s turn to make a noise now, and she did it with all her might.  “Oily Dave, come out!  We’ve got a boat at the back, and we will save you if you will be quick.”

She was making so much noise herself, and picking her way with such extreme care over the rotten ice, that she failed to hear the first response to her calling, and the next pulled her up with a jerk.

“Oily Dave isn’t here, but if you will take me I shall be very thankful.”

The voice was a strange one, and had an unmistakable ring of refinement and culture.  Katherine faced round with such a start of surprise as to nearly send her sprawling again, for the ice was full of pitfalls.  A young man was leaning out through the small square opening which did duty for a window, and her first impression of him was of someone extremely tired, and that gave her the clue to his identity.  He must be the Englishman who had come from Maxokama with the Indians who had brought the mail.

“Open the door and come out that way,” she said in a tone of sharp authority.  “You will never be able to squeeze through that small window unless your shoulders are very narrow indeed.”

“Which they are not,” he replied, and disappeared from view.

She heard him banging and tugging at the door, but never a jot did it stir, and after about five minutes of this futile work he appeared again at the window.  The water was nearly on a level with the opening now, and rising moment by moment, while there were ominous ripping and rending sounds in Katherine’s ice island, which warned her that the rescue must take place in the next few minutes if it was to be effected at all.

“The door is jammed.  What am I to do?” the unknown asked in a calm tone, with no flurry or fuss.  Indeed, Katherine wondered if he realized how great was his peril and her own.

“Break it down, smash it, anything; only be quick, please,” she said sharply, marvelling a little at his unconcern in the face of such grave danger.