She turned sharply to see the water welling up out of a dark triangular hole on the other side of the pond, where a row of pollard willows had screened the ice from the full keenness of the wind.
Wiggins was in that hole under the water.
She screamed and dashed toward it.

She had nearly reached it when his head came up above the surface; and he clutched at the ice.

Two more steps and a loud crack gave her pause.

It flashed on her that if she went near it, she would merely widen the hole and be helpless in the water herself.
"Hold on! Hold on!" she cried as she stopped ten yards from the hole; and then she sent a shrill piercing scream from all her lungs ringing through the still winter air.
She screamed again and yet again.

Wiggins' face rose above the edge of the ice; and he gasped and spluttered.