PAGE 12
The Icebreaker
by
Yet, soaked though we were, Ossip might verily have known the number of cracks in advance, so smooth and harelike was his progress from floe to floe as at intervals he faced about, watched us, and cried sonorously:
“That’s the way to do it, eh?”
Yes, he absolutely played with the river, and though it kept catching at his diminutive form, he always evaded it, circumvented its movements, and avoided its snares. Nay, capable even of directing its trend did he seem, and of thrusting under our feet only the largest and firmest floes.
“Lads, there is no need to be downhearted,” he would cry at intervals.
“Ah, that brave Ossip!” the Morduine once ejaculated. “In very truth is he a man, and no mistake! Just look at him!”
The closer we approached the further shore, the thinner and the more brittle did the ice become, and the more liable we to break through it. By this time the town had nearly passed us, and we were bidding fair to be carried out into the Volga, where the ice would still be sound, and, as likely as not, draw us under itself.
“By your leave, we are going to be drowned,” the Morduine murmured as he glanced at the blue shadow of eventide on our left.
And simultaneously, as though compassionating our lot, a large floe grounded upon the bank, glided upwards with a cracking and a crashing, and there held fast!
“Run, all of you!” came a furious shout from Ossip. “Hurry up, now! Put your very best legs foremost!”
For myself, as I sprang upon the floe I lost my footing, and, falling headlong and remaining seated on the hither end of the floe amid a shower of spray, saw five of my seven comrades rush past, pushing and jostling, as they made for the shore. But presently the Morduine turned and halted beside me, with the intention of rendering Ossip assistance.
“Run, you young fools!” the latter exclaimed. “Come! Be off with you!”
Somehow in his face there was now a livid, uncertain air, while his eyes had lost their fire, and his mouth was curiously agape.
“No, mate. Do YOU get up,” was my counter-adjuration.
“Unfortunately, I have hurt my leg,” he replied with his head bent down. “In fact, I am not sure that I can get up.”
However, we contrived to raise him and carry him ashore with an arm of his resting on each of our necks. Meanwhile he growled with chattering teeth:
“Aha, you river devils! Drown me if you can! But I’ve not given you a chance, the Lord be thanked! Hi, look out! The ice won’t bear the three of us. Mind how you step, and choose places where the ice is bare of snow. There it’s firmer. No, a better plan still would be to leave me where I am.”
Next, with a frowning scrutiny of my face, he inquired:
“That notebook of our misdeeds–hasn’t it had a wetting and got done for?”
That very moment, as we stepped from the stranded floe (in grounding, it had crushed and shattered a small boat), such part of it as lay in the water gave a loud crack, and, swaying to and fro, and emitting a gurgling sound, floated clear of the rest.
“Ah!” was the Morduine’s quizzical comment. “YOU knew well enough what needed to be done.”
Wet, and chilled to the bone, though relieved in spirit, we stepped ashore to find a crowd of townspeople in conversation with Boev and the old soldier. And as we deposited our charge under the lea of a pile of logs he shouted cheerfully:
“Mates, Makarei’s notebook is done for, soaked through!” And since the notebook in question was weighing upon my breast like a brick, I pulled it out unseen, and hurled it far into the river with a plop like that of a frog.
As for the Diatlovs, they lost no time in setting out in search of vodka in the tavern on the hill, and slapped one another on the back as they ran, and could be heard shouting, “Hurrah, hurrah!”