He kept looking over his shoulder, making sure they were still behind him. Once he saw they were coming, he pushed ahead again with everything he had.
The dog led them without a mistake to the dark opening in the ice where Frank was still hanging on. By then he was barely moving, clinging to the edge with the last of his strength.
The men reacted fast and smart. They spread themselves out flat on the ice to distribute their weight and avoid breaking through themselves.
One of them reached out with a long sturdy branch they had picked up along the bank. The others braced and pulled with all their strength, boots sliding on the snow-dusted surface.
The ice cracked under the strain and threatened to give way again. But working together, they managed to drag Frank clear and onto firmer ice.
He lay there gulping air, unable to say much of anything. His soaked clothes were already freezing stiff around him.
The men knew they were on the clock. One of them stripped off his own dry jacket and threw it over Frank’s shoulders.
They wrapped him up, got him carefully to his feet, and started him back toward home. Frank, deep in shock and badly chilled, remembered almost none of the trip back.
His mind was foggy, and dark waves kept rolling across his vision from the cold. When he came to, he was in his own warm room, lying on the bed near the hot stove.
