The next instant he was sorry that he had shouted.

He was to his waist in water, but his feet were on bottom.

He saw now what had happened, that the surface of the water was a foot below the shell of ice, which was scarcely more than an inch in thickness.

It was not difficult for him to kick off his snow-shoes under the water, and he began breaking his way ashore.
Five minutes later he dragged himself out, stiff with the cold, his drenched clothing freezing as it came into contact with the air.
His first thought was of fire, and he ran up the shore, his teeth chattering, and began tearing off handfuls of bark from a birch.

Not until he was done and the bark was piled in a heap beside the tree did the full horror of his situation dawn upon him.