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There was once a chap who went skating too early and all of a sudden
that afternoon loud cries for help began to echo among the bleak hills
that surrounded the skating pond.

A farmer, cobbling his boots before his kitchen fire heard the shouts
and yells, and ran to the pond at break-neck speed. He saw a large
black hole in the ice, and a pale young fellow stood with chattering
teeth shoulder-deep in the cold water.

The farmer laid a board on the thin ice and crawled out on it to the
edge of the hole. Then, extending his hand, he said:

"Here, come over this way, and I'll lift you out."

"No, I can't swim," was the impatient reply. "Throw a rope to me. Hurry
up. It's cold in here."

"I ain't got no rope," said the farmer; and he added angrily. "What if
you can't swim you can wade, I guess! The water's only up to your
shoulders."

"Up to my shoulders?" said the young fellow. "It's eight feet deep if
it's an inch. I'm standing on the blasted fat man who broke the ice!"

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