head, an almost overpowering desire to open his mouth, to gasp, gasp
for air where there was nothing but death! Then his head struck
something. It was the ice! He had come up under the ice, and there was
but one end to that!

He began to sink again, slowly, as if an invisible hand were pulling
him down, and in his despair he made a last frantic effort, striking
out blindly, knowing that in another second he must open his mouth.
Even under the water he still had consciousness enough left to know
that he tried to cry out, and he felt the first gurgling rush of water
into his lungs. But he did not see the long arm that reached down
where the bubbles were coming up, he did not feel the grip that
dragged him out upon the ice. His first sense of life was that
something very heavy was upon his stomach, and that he was being
rubbed, and pummeled, and rolled about as if he had become the
plaything of a great bear. Then he saw Mukoki, and then Wabigoon.

"You go build fire," he heard Mukoki say, and he could hear Wabi
running swiftly shoreward. For he knew that they were still upon the
ice. The canoe was drawn safely up a dozen feet away, and the old
Indian was dragging blankets from it. When Mukoki turned he found Rod
resting upon his elbow, looking at him.

"That--w'at you call heem--close shave!" he grinned, placing a
supporting arm under Rod's shoulder.

With Mukoki's assistance the youth rose to his feet, and a thick
blanket was wrapped about him. Slowly they made their way shoreward,
and soon Wabi came running out to meet them, dripping wet.