THIN ICE
Dorothy spied the Fire Bird just as it turned in at the entrance gate.
And she identified the person sitting beside her chum, too. Therefore,
she had a few minutes in which to prepare for her meeting with Garry
Knapp.
She was on the porch when the car stopped, and her welcome to the young
Westerner possessed just the degree of cordiality that it should.
Neither by word nor look did she betray the fact that her heart’s
action was accelerated, or that she felt a thrill of joy to think that
the first of her moves in this intricate game had been successful.
“Of course, it would be Tavia’s good fortune to pick you up at the
station,” she said, while Garry held her hand just a moment longer than
was really necessary for politeness’ sake. “Had you telegraphed us——”
“I hadn’t a thought that I was going to run up against Miss Travers or
you, Miss Dale,” he said.
“Oh, then, this is a business visit?” and she laughed. “Entirely? You
only wish to see Major Dale?”
“Well—now—that’s unfair,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But I told Miss
Travers she might drive me to the hotel.”
“Oh, this will be your hotel while you remain, of course. Father would
not hear of anything else I am sure.”
“I can thank you, then, Miss Dale,” he said quietly and with a sudden
serious mien, “for the chance to sell my ranch at a better price than
those sharks were ready to give?”
“No. You may thank Major Dale’s bump of acquisitiveness,” she said,
laughing at him over her shoulder as she led the way into the house.
“Having so much land already out there, like other great property
owners, he is always looking for more.”
If Garry Knapp was not assured that she was entirely frank upon this
matter, he knew that his welcome was as warm as though he were really
an old friend. He met Mrs. White almost at once, and Dorothy was
delighted by her marked approval of him.
Garry Knapp got to the major by slow degrees. Tavia marveled as she
watched Dorothy Dale’s calm and assured methods. This was the demure,
cautious girl whom she had always looked upon as being quite helpless
when it came to managing “affairs” with members of the opposite sex.
Tavia imagined she was quite able to manage any man—“put him in his
place,” she termed it—much better than Dorothy Dale. But now!
Dorothy quietly sent Joe and Roger out for Mr. Knapp’s bags and told
them to take the bags up to an indicated room. She made no fuss about
it, but took it for granted that Garry Knapp had come for a visit, not
for a call.
The young man from the West had to sit down and talk with Aunt Winnie.
That lady proceeded in her good-humored and tactful way to draw him
out. Aunt Winnie learned more about Garry Knapp in those few minutes
than even Tavia had learned when she took dinner with the young man.
And all the time the watchful Dorothy saw Garry Knapp growing in her
aunt’s estimation.
Ned came in. He had been fussing and fuming because business had kept
him from personally seeing Jennie Hapgood aboard her train. He welcomed
this big fellow from the West, perhaps, because he helped take Ned’s
mind off his own affairs.
“Come on up and dress for dinner,” Ned suggested, having gained Garry
Knapp’s sole attention. “It’s pretty near time for the big eats, and
mother is a stickler for the best bib and tucker at the evening meal.”
“Great Scott!” gasped Garry Knapp in a panic. “You don’t mean dinner
dress? I haven’t had on a swallowtail since I was in college.”
“Tuxedo will do,” Ned said lightly. “If you didn’t bring ’em I’ll lend
you. I’m about as broad as you, my boy.”
Garry Knapp was three or four years older than Ned, and that “my boy”
sounded rather funny. However, the Westerner did not smile. He accepted
the loan of the dinner coat and the vest without comment, but he looked
very serious while he was dressing.
They went down together to meet the girls in the drawing-room. Dorothy
Dale and Tavia had dressed especially for the occasion. Tavia flaunted
her fine feathers frankly; but demure Dorothy’s eyes shone more
gloriously than her frock. Ned said:
“You look scrumptious, Coz. And, of course, Tavia, you are a vision of
delight. Where’s Nat?”
“Nat?” questioned Tavia, her countenance falling. “Is—isn’t he
upstairs?”
“Why, don’t you know?” Dorothy cried. “He’s gone to Boston. Left just
before you came back from the station, Tavia.”
“Well, of all things!” Ned said. “I’d have gone with him if I’d really
believed he meant it. Old grouch! He’s been talking of lighting out for
a week. But I am glad,” he added cordially, looking at Garry Knapp,
“that I did not go. Then I, too, might have missed meeting Mr. Knapp.”
Now, what was it kept Major Dale away from the dinner table that
evening? His excuse was that a twinge or two of rheumatism kept him
from appearing with the family when dinner was called. And yet Dorothy
did not appear worried by her father’s absence as she ordinarily would
have been. Tavia was secretly delighted by this added manifestation
of Dorothy’s finesse. Garry Knapp could not find any excuse for
withdrawing from the house until he had interviewed the major.
As was usual at The Cedars, the evening meal was a lively and enjoyable
occasion. Tavia successfully hid her chagrin at Nat’s absence; but Joe
and Roger were this evening the life of the company.
“The river’s frozen,” sang Roger, “and we’re going skating on it, Joe
and I. Did you ever go skating, Mr. Knapp?” for Roger believed it only
common politeness to bring the visitor into the conversation.
“Sure enough,” laughed Garry Knapp. “I used to be some skater, too.”
“You’d better come,” said Roger. “It’s going to be moonlight—Popeye
Jordan says so, and he knows, for his father lights the street lamps
and this is one of the nights he doesn’t have to work.”
“I hope Popeye hasn’t made a mistake—or Mr. Jordan, either—in reading
the almanac,” Dorothy said, when the laugh had subsided.
“You’d better come, too, Dorothy,” said Joe. “The river’s as smooth as
glass.”
“Let’s all go,” proposed Tavia, glad to be in anything active that
would occupy her mind and perhaps would push out certain unpleasant
thoughts that lodged there.
“Mr. Knapp has no skates,” said Dorothy, softly.
“Don’t let that stop you,” the Westerner put in, smiling. “I can go and
look on.”
“Oh, I guess we can give you a look _in_,” said Ned. “There’s Nat’s
skates. I think he didn’t take ’em with him.”
“Will they fit Mr. Knapp?” asked Tavia.
“Dead sure that nobody’s got a bigger foot than old Nat,” said his
brother wickedly. “If Mr. Knapp can get into my coat, he’ll find no
trouble in getting into Nat’s shoes.”
Ned rather prided himself on his own small and slim foot and often took
a fling at the size of his brother’s shoes. But now, Nat not being
present, he hoped to “get a rise” out of Tavia. The girl, however, bit
her lip and said nothing. She was not even defending Nat these days.
It was concluded that all should go—that is, all the young people then
present. Nat and Jennie’s absence made what Ned called “a big hole” in
the company.
“You be good to me, Dot,” he said to his cousin, as they waited in the
side hall for Tavia to come down. “I’m going to miss Jennie awfully. I
want to skate with you and tell you all about it.”
“All about what?” demanded his cousin, laughing.
“Why, all about how we came to—to—to find out we cared for each other,”
Ned whispered, blunderingly enough but very earnest. “You know, Dot,
it’s just wonderful——”
“You go on, dear,” said Dorothy, poking a gloved forefinger at him.
“If you two sillies didn’t know you were in love with each other till
you brought home the ring the other night, why everybody else in the
neighborhood was aware of the fact æons and æons ago!”
“Huh?” grunted Ned, his eyes blinking in surprise.
“It was the most transparent thing in the world. Everybody around here
saw how the wind blew.”
“You don’t mean it!” said the really astonished Ned. “Well! and I
didn’t know it myself till I began to think how bad a time I was going
to have without Jennie. I wish old Nat would play up to Tavia.”
Dorothy looked at him scornfully. “Well! of all the stupid people who
ever lived, most men are _it_,” she thought. But what she said aloud
was:
“I want to skate with Mr. Knapp, Nedward. You know he is our guest. You
take Tavia.”
“Pshaw!” muttered her cousin as the girl in question appeared and Garry
Knapp and the boys came in from the porch where the Westerner had been
trying on Nat’s skating boots. “I can’t talk to the flyaway as I can to
you. But I don’t blame you for wanting to skate with Knapp. He seems
like a mighty fine fellow.”
Dorothy was getting the family’s opinion, one by one, of the man Tavia
wickedly whispered Dorothy had “set her cap” for. The younger boys were
plainly delighted with Garry Knapp. When the party got to the river
Joe and Roger would scarcely let the guest and Dorothy get away by
themselves.
Garry Knapp skated somewhat awkwardly at first, for he had not been
on the ice for several years. But he was very sure footed and it was
evident utterly unafraid.
He soon “got the hang of it,” as he said, and was then ready to skate
away with Dorothy. The Dale boys tried to keep up; but with one of his
smiles into the girl’s face, Knapp suddenly all but picked her up and
carried her off at a great pace over the shining, black ice.
“Oh! you take my breath!” she cried half aloud, yet clinging with
delight to his arm.
“We’ll dodge the little scamps and then get down to _talk_,” he said.
“I want to know all about it.”
“All about what?” she returned, looking at him with shy eyes and a
fluttering at her heart that she was glad he could not know about.
“About this game of getting me East again. I can see your fine Italian
hand in this, Miss Dale. Does your father really need my land?”
He said it bluntly, and although he smiled, Dorothy realized there was
something quite serious behind his questioning.
“Well, you see, after you had left the hotel in New York, Tavia and I
overheard those two awful men you agreed to sell to talking about the
bargain,” she said rather stumblingly, but with earnestness.
“You did!” he exclaimed. “The sharks!”
“That is exactly what they were. They said after Stiffbold got out West
he would try to beat you down in your price, although at the terms
agreed upon he knew he was getting a bargain.”
“Oh-ho!” murmured Garry Knapp. “That’s the way of it, eh? They had me
scared all right. I gave them an option for thirty days for a hundred
dollars and they let the option run out. I was about to accept a lower
price when your father’s lawyers came around.”
“You see, Tavia and I were both interested,” Dorothy explained. “And
Tavia wrote to a friend of ours, Lance Petterby——”
[Illustration: IT SEEMED TO DOROTHY THAT THEY FAIRLY FLEW OVER THE OPEN
WATER.
_Dorothy Dale’s Engagement_ _Page 198_
]
“Ah! that’s why old Lance came riding over to Bob Douglass’ place,
was it?” murmured Garry.
“Then,” said Dorothy, bravely, “I mentioned the matter to father,
and he is always willing to buy property adjoining the Hardin place.
Thinks it is a good investment. He and Aunt Winnie, too, have a high
opinion of that section of the country. They believe it is _the_ coming
wheat-growing land of the States.”
Garry’s mind seemed not to be absorbed by this phase of the subject. He
said abruptly:
“Your folks are mighty rich, Miss Dale, aren’t they?”
Dorothy started at this blunt and unusual question, but, after a
moment’s hesitation, decided to answer as frankly as the question had
been put.
“Oh! Aunt Winnie married a wealthy man—yes,” she said. “Professor
Winthrop White. But we were very poor, indeed, until a few years ago
when a distant relative left the major some property. Then, of course,
this Hardin estate is a big thing.”
“Yes,” said Garry, shortly. “And you are going to be wealthy in your
own right when you are of age. So your little friend told me.”
“Yes,” sighed Dorothy. “Tavia _will_ talk. The same relative who left
father his first legacy, tied up some thousands for poor little me.”
Immediately Garry Knapp talked of other things. The night was fine and
the moon, a silver paring, hung low above the hills. The stars were
so bright that they were reflected in the black ice under the skaters’
ringing steel.
Garry and Dorothy had shot away from the others and were now well down
the river toward the milldam. So perfectly had the ice frozen that
when they turned the blades of the skates left long, soaplike shavings
behind them.
With clasped hands, they took the stroke together perfectly. Never had
Dorothy skated with a partner that suited her so well. Nor had she ever
sped more swiftly over the ice.
Suddenly, she felt Garry’s muscles stiffen and saw his head jerk up as
he stared ahead.
“What is it?” she murmured, her own eyes so misty that she could not
see clearly. Then in a moment she uttered a frightened “Oh!”
They had crossed the river, and now, on coming back, there unexpectedly
appeared a long, open space before them. The water was so still that at
a distance the treacherous spot looked just like the surrounding ice.
The discovery was made too late for them to stop. Indeed, Garry Knapp
increased his speed, picked her up in his arms and it seemed to Dorothy
that they fairly flew over the open water, landing with a resonant ring
of steel upon the safe ice beyond.
For the moment that she was held tightly in the young man’s arms, she
clung to him with something besides fear.
“Oh, Garry!” she gasped when he set her down again.
“Some jump, eh?” returned the young man coolly.
They skated on again without another word.