About a half-mile behind our Minnesota farm lay a pond. In summer, my brother Harry and I would run through a stand of oak trees to skip stones there. The pond wore a collar of black mud. It was not a place for swimming.
In late summer, the pond would be covered by a green and bubbly scum (起泡的浮渣).Some times a strong, unpleasant smell rose from it. We stayed away.
When winter came, the pond was once again an inviting place. One day when ice covered it, Harry said to me, “Try walking across. The ice looked solid. No water showed through it”, but I hesitated. “Go ahead.”Harry urged. “Try it. You’re lighter than I am. If the ice holds, we can run and slide carefully on it. It’ll be fun.” I wanted to please Harry and I thought about the fun of a long slide on the ice. I began to slide across the pond.
In the middle of the pond, the ice gave way with a sudden crack (裂缝)! I stretched out (伸展) my arms. The next thing I knew I was hanging on to the edge of a hole in the ice by arms outstretched on the ice. From my shoulders down I hung in icy water. I thought of the bottom of the pond. I knew it would be black and awful down there, full of mud and maybe rotting creatures.
I tried to climb out of the hole, but when I got a knee on the ice, it broke like window glass. Again and again I tried to get out. Again and again the ice broke into pieces. The hole widened. I was wearing a coat of heavy material. As it became completely wet, it dragged me down. I was tired of the struggle and rested with my arms stretched out on the ice.
I looked at Harry on shore. He seemed rooted to the spot.“I can’t get out!”I screamed when I caught some breath. Then I saw he turned and ran from the pond. Despair and scare beat me out of breath. After what seemed to be hours of fruitless waiting. I was on the verge of breaking down.
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Just at that moment, here dashed Harry with a large V-shaped oak branch.
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The moment I crashed through the kitchen door, sobbing, mum rushed over.
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