But Tom Gray was out of the hole now; helped by the wagon he slipped easily along the half-submerged ice, then finally rolled over with a cry of relief upon the firm surface.
In the same way they pulled out the deaf and dumb man, who had certainly been brave and patient during the ordeal, although he had uttered the most fearful sounds.
As soon as his feet touched the solid ice, he seized his wagon and made for the bank.

Grace, remembering she had promised him her ring, hurried after him, but she was chilled to the bone and could not run.

By the time she reached the bank he had rounded the corner of the ice house and was out of sight.
"He evidently doesn't care to be thanked," said Tom Gray as Grace returned to where he and Julia stood waiting.
"We had better get home as soon as possible or we'll all be laid up with colds." The three half-frozen young people made their way home as best they could.
Their clothes had frozen stiff, making it impossible for them to hurry.
Julia Crosby said not a word during the walk, but when she left them at the corner where she turned into her own street, she said huskily: "Thank you both for what you did for me to-day, I owe my life to you." "That was a whole lot for her to say," said Grace.
"She ought to be grateful," growled Tom.

"She was the cause of all this mess," pointing to his wet clothes.
"I believe she will be," said Grace softly, "After all, 'It's an ill wind that blows no one good.'" Grace's mother was justly horrified when Grace, in her bedraggled condition, walked into the living room.

She insisted on putting her to bed, wrapping her in blankets and giving her hot drinks.