He was doing very difficult
figures now, and I ran round to where the bank was covered with people
watching him. In the minute that followed I remember three things with
curious distinctness. First, that I saw Mr. Wood coming back, only one
field off, and beckoned to him to be quick, because the lad was
beginning to cut a double three backwards, and I wanted the
school-master to see it. Secondly, that the sight of him seemed suddenly
to bring to my mind that we were all on the far side of the dam, the
side he thought dangerous. And thirdly, that, quickly as my eyes passed
from Mr. Wood to the skater, I caught sight of a bloated-looking young
man, whom we all knew as a sort of typical "bad lot," standing with
another man who was a great better, and from a movement between them, it
just flashed through my head that they were betting as to whether the
lad would cut the double three backwards or not.
He cut one--two--and then he turned too quickly and his skate caught in
the softening ice, and when he came headlong, his head struck, and
where it struck it went through. It looked so horrible that it was a
relief to see him begin to struggle; but the weakened ice broke around
him with every effort, and he went down.
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