The speed
and impetus of the little craft were so great that before it could be
brought up it was about half a mile away, and the good man was left in
what might be a dangerous isolation, for ice over which the boat could
skim in security might be very unsafe under the stationary weight of a
solidly built man like Mr. Barkdale. Webb therefore seized a pole
belonging to one of the fishermen, and came speedily to the clergyman's
side. Happily the ice, although it had wasted rapidly from the action of
the tide in that part of the river, sustained them until the boat
returned, and the good man resumed his journey with laughing words, by
which he nevertheless conveyed to Webb his honest gratitude for the
promptness with which the young fellow had shared his possible danger.
When Webb returned he found Amy pale and agitated, for an indiscreet
fisherman had remarked that the ice was "mighty poor out in that
direction."
"Won't you please come off the river?" she asked, nervously. "I've seen
all I wish."
"It's perfectly safe here."
"But you were not here a moment since, and I've no confidence in your
discretion when any one is in danger."
"I did not run any risks worth speaking of."
"I think you did. The men explained, in answer to my questions, that the
ice toward spring becomes honeycombed--that's the way they expressed
it--and lets one through without much warning. They also said the tides
wore it away underneath about as fast as the rain and sun wasted the
surface.
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