Again he disappeared, and Katherine heard a rain of heavy blows beginning to fall upon the door; then with a cracking, splitting noise the panel gave way, the man inside wrenched off the broken part, and stood revealed up to his waist in water.  But there was a space of fully three yards between himself and Katherine’s island of ice, and, as the ground dropped away sharply in front of the house, she knew he must not venture to attempt wading.

“Get a plank or Oily Dave’s long table,” she said, her manner more dictatorial than before, for the unknown was so terribly slow in his movements, and the water was still rising.

Mrs. Jenkin had commenced shouting again, but Katherine paid no heed to her, for the unknown had appeared with a long, narrow trestle table, which, resting one set of legs on the doorstep, reached to the ice.  But it was a perilous bridge, and Katherine knew it; only there was no other way, so the peril had to be faced.

“Now run, only be ready to spring,” she cried, trying to encourage him.

“Easier said than done,” he answered.  “I can scarcely walk, much less run.”

“Then you must crawl; only please make haste.  The ice is so rotten that every minute I am fearing it will give way,” she said.  Then dropping on her knees on the ice, regardless of the water which washed over its surface, she tried to hold the edge of the table steady for him to cross.

On he came, crawling slowly and painfully.  He was so near to her now that Katherine could hear his panting breath and see the look of grim endurance on his drawn face.  Mrs. Jenkin was shrieking in a frantic manner, and then Katherine heard a shrill cry from Miles, who was out of sight round the corner of the house.  But the noise conveyed no meaning to her.  She had just stretched out her hand to grasp that of the unknown, when there came a tremendous crash which shot her off the ice and into the water.  The shock which sent her into the water, however, steadied the rickety bridge over which the stranger was crawling by jamming the ice closer under it, and the man, catching her as she took her plunge, held her fast, then dragged her up beside him by sheer strength of arm.

[Illustration:  The rescue of Jarvis Ferrars.]

“I am afraid you are rather wet,” the stranger said in a tone of rueful apology, keeping his clutch on Katherine as she struggled to a kneeling posture.

Dashing the wet hair from her eyes, Katherine looked anxiously round, fearing that their one way of escape had been cut off.  A huge fragment of ice had cannoned into her island and split off a great portion.  Plainly that was why Mrs. Jenkin had screamed so shrilly, for she had seen what was coming and had tried to warn her.  There were other ice fragments about; huge blocks like miniature bergs were bobbing and bowing to the racing current, while they flashed back the rays of the sun with dazzling brilliancy.  But there was still time to get round the corner of the house to the boat, if only they made haste; and, scrambling from her knees to her feet, Katherine cried urgently:  “Come, come, we have just time; there is a boat round the corner of the house.  If we can get there before the next crash comes we are safe, if not we may drown!”