And a bully time they had that next forenoon. To be sure, a few day
students appeared at the slide, but the four juniors had things
pretty much to themselves for all of that. They had their pick of the
school toboggans and the added satisfaction of knowing that the hated
enemy was envying them. For Lanny’s prophecy had proved true, and the
offending upper grade fellows had been sentenced to house bounds for
the entire morning.
Nan, in a fetching white blanket coat with red border and a white and
red toque, joined them at their invitation, and, in order to show no
partiality, alternately went down with Bert and Kid and Lanny and
Small. Small was in high feather this morning, and talked a good deal
about how he had scared the upper grade fellows into fits by hurling
himself down the slide after them. Small finally actually got to
believe that he had really performed that sensational feat on purpose.
It was a cloudy Saturday, but crisp and cold, and the slide was very
fast. Starting at the platform, there came a breath-taking rush down
the icy boards, then a little bump as the toboggan took the ground,
then a slackening of speed for a moment over the level ground, then a
long dip down the meadow hill, a little rise, and another and steeper
descent and finally a gradual lessening of speed in the fields above
the river, the whole trip over almost before one could really settle
down to appreciation of it. Then came the long tramp back, cheeks
crimson and hearts merry. There was only one spill all that morning,
and that came when Lanny, yielding at last to the imploring of Small,
allowed that youth to occupy the back of the toboggan. They had Nan
with them that trip, and just after they had reached the level Small
managed in some way to shift his position so that the toboggan plunged
over the bank and sent them all sprawling in the soft snow. Nan
declared, as she shook the snow off, that upsetting was lots of fun,
and thereafter went down each time with the hope that the toboggan
would overturn!
But it never did again, and dinner time came all too soon. Not,
however, that they were lacking in appetite. Bert declared that he
could eat wire nails, while Kid, not to be outdone in picturesqueness
of language, maintained that a “raw dog would suit him finely!” Their
appetites contrasted strongly with those of the upper grade fellows who
had been mooning around indoors all the morning, and Cupples, watching
Lanny eat, sighed enviously.
At two o’clock the big sleigh came to the door to take those who wished
to ride down to the river where the annual ice carnival was to be
held. A few of the older boys went on snowshoes, and Kid started off
alone with his sled, but the others piled into the sleigh, which had a
seat running lengthwise at each side. Everyone went, even the Doctor
and Mrs. Merton; and Nan, of course. The river was frozen a good five
inches and save where, here and there near shore, a snow-field hid the
surface, was in the best of shape for the races. A fire was started on
the bank and the Doctor and Mrs. Merton made themselves comfortable
with robes from the sleigh. Everyone else, including Mr. Crane and
Mr. Folsom, who had the affair in charge, donned skates and took to
the surface. Most of the day students were on hand, and by half past
two practically all of Mt. Pleasant Academy was there, one of the few
absentees being Kid. But Kid arrived in time to see the finish of the
two-hundred-yard dash, panting and puffing and pulling his beloved
sled behind him.
Spooner, one of the day boys, a short, round-faced chap who looked like
anything but a fast skater, won the first event. Spooner, in spite of
his appearance, was a wonder on skates, and by reason of that ability
had won the captaincy of the Day Hockey team. Other races followed;
a quarter-mile event for seniors and upper middlers, a race of the
same distance for lower middlers and juniors, a half-mile handicap and
finally a rescue race of a quarter of a mile. Ben Holden distanced the
entire field of five in the senior quarter-mile event, Cupples captured
the next, with Lanny a close second, and the half-mile handicap, which
started with sixteen entries, went to a day student, while Sam Perkins
fought every foot of the distance and managed to finish only some six
yards behind. There were prizes for first and second places, in each
case a small pewter mug with the date and event engraved on it and a
place for the winner’s name. Those mugs were highly prized and some of
the seniors, during their three years at Mt. Pleasant, had managed to
make a very creditable collection of them. Mr. Crane was kept pretty
busy hustling the events off, while Mr. Folsom, looking as serious as
ever, timed each event. As not even a school record was broken that day
the time need not interest us.
Bert had entered in the handicap, but had finished a poor sixth, much
to his chagrin since, although he was no hockey player, he rather
prided himself on his skating. But the distance was too short for Bert
to show up at his best, and when, after the rescue race was over, the
two-mile handicap was announced Bert gave his name to Mr. Crane.
Before this, however, the rescue race had occasioned not a little
excitement and a great deal of mirth. A quarter of a mile up the
river from the starting place four small juniors, Kid, Small and two
day students waited each with his ankles bound together with a skate
strap. They wore no skates. At the word from Mr. Crane, Pierce, Waters,
Lovell and a day student named Tucker dashed off up the ice. The first
to arrive at the end of the course was at liberty to pick his boy,
and, as Kid was several pounds lighter than any of the other three,
the contestants all wanted Kid. Waters got him, beating the others by
a few yards. Then the task was to return to the starting place with
the rescued boy. They could carry him, pull him or push him; the
only thing was to get him back. But the mode generally adopted was to
get the rescued boy in front, seize him by the elbows and push him,
the burden slanting his body back and sliding along on his heels. Of
course, the rescued boy was required to aid to the extent of keeping
his body stiff and his feet straight ahead. But it wasn’t so easy.
Now and then one or other would double up, or his feet would swing
aside, or his rescuer would lose his hold. In either case the result
was usually a spill, with the rescuer and rescued ludicrously mixed up
on the ice. Kid, in spite of his light weight, proved a troublesome
burden, for he seemed unable to keep his feet straight for the goal and
was forever swinging to one side or the other, occasioning Waters much
trouble, two upsets and a loss of temper. Waters insisted afterwards
that Kid did it on purpose. As for the justice of that charge I decline
to give an opinion. Kid was Kid, and a law unto himself!
In the end Steve Lovell won with Small, who behaved beautifully all the
way, and Pierce was second, Waters finishing a very bad fourth. During
that race the upsets were not confined to the competitors, for most
of the spectators skated along the edge of the course, applauding and
encouraging and laughing, and more than one, unable to laugh and skate
too, abandoned skating and decided to view the finish from a recumbent
position.
There were only three entries for the final event, the two-mile
handicap, Ben Holden, Stanley Pierce and Bert. Holden was placed at
scratch, Pierce was given eighty yards and Bert two hundred, more, as
subsequent events proved, than his ability entitled him to. The course
was up the river for a mile to the upper end of Candle Island, a low
sand-bar near the shore, around the island and back to the starting
line. This was approximately a mile and the distance was to be skated
twice.
Lanny and Nan skated up the river with Bert and Mr. Crane to Bert’s
starting mark. Then Mr. Crane returned to post Pierce and give the word.
“Oh, I do hope you’ll win, Bert!” said Nan.
“So do I,” agreed Lanny, “if only to beat Ben. You’d better let him
make the pace for you as soon as he catches up with you.”
“Don’t let him catch up,” said Nan. “Skate just as hard and fast as
ever you can, Bert! And please be careful at the island. You know Mr.
Crane said you must keep above the snag because the ice is weak there.”
“He’s a regular old woman about thin ice,” said Lanny.
“But it’s so, Lanny, and I know it. The ice is always weak at the end
of Candle Island. The――the current or something does it. So you must
keep beyond the snag, Bert.”
“What sort of a thing is this snag?” asked Bert, taking a tighter hitch
in his belt and keeping his eye down river for the signal.
“Why, it’s an old dead tree that sticks up through the ice about――about
twenty yards beyond the further end of the island,” explained Nan. “And
you must――”
“Get set,” interrupted Lanny. “He’s going to start you.”
Then down the river Mr. Crane dropped the hand holding his cap and
Bert’s skates bit into the ice and he was off. A two mile race, whether
on foot or on skates, is a thing of endurance and soon Bert slowed down
to an even, swinging pace that took him along quite fast enough. Ben
started out with the idea of catching Pierce and he did it in the first
quarter of a mile, while back at the starting line the watchers cheered
lustily. Ben wasn’t bothering about Bert. He would let Pierce make the
pace as long as he would and then pass him. He believed that a mile
would see the junior out of the race. Bert reached the farther end of
Candle Island quite alone, swung around the snag which poked itself
through the ice like a gaunt brown arm, and swung homeward. As he
passed the middle of the sand-bar he saw Pierce and Holden, only three
yards apart, on the other side. Pierce was looking flurried already,
Bert thought. So far Bert had maintained his lead, and he meant to do
his very best to keep it. But on the return journey Ben awoke to the
fact that Pierce was slowing up and that the third competitor had a
very dangerous lead. So he left Pierce behind soon after the lower
end of the island was passed and increased his speed. By the time the
starting place was reached, where a barrel set on end did duty as a
turning mark, Bert’s lead had been cut down to a scant hundred yards
and Ben was still gaining. The spectators cheered and waved as the two
boys made the turn and began the second lap, and Bert heard Lanny’s
voice high above all others:
“All for one and one for all!” shouted Lanny. Nan, a blur of red and
white, waved wildly. Half way to the island again Bert heard Ben’s
skates ringing on the ice close behind. For nearly a quarter of a mile
the two boys skated twenty yards apart, although from the start it was
difficult to guess the distance that divided them. Then Ben spurted, as
the lower end of the island was reached, and Bert let him by without a
challenge. Meanwhile Pierce was out of it and was sitting by the fire
nursing a painful attack of cramps.
Around the head of the island the two skaters went, Bert right on Ben’s
heels. Ben had obeyed Mr. Crane’s injunction before, but now, hoping
perhaps to steal a few yards on Bert, he swung around close to the end
of the sand-bar, well inside the snag. After a moment of hesitation,
which lost him several yards of distance, Bert followed.
“If that ice will hold him it will hold me,” thought Bert.
Near shore the ice was worn by the action of the current as it swept
against the bar and open water showed in places. But Ben’s course
seemed to bear him safely away from the weak places, although still
some distance inside the dead tree. Bert followed in his tracks
some six yards behind. Then, suddenly, there was a cracking sound,
an exclamation from Ben and that youth wheeled half around and went
through the ice. Bert strove to stop, wheeling to the right, felt the
ice giving beneath him and threw himself face down and went sliding
toward the snag and safety. Then he was on his knees, rather dizzy and
frightened, peering anxiously back for Ben. Ben, clinging to the edge
of the ice, was keeping himself afloat.
“Got anything you can throw me?” he asked Bert coolly. “I can keep
afloat here for a week but the ice won’t hold, I guess.”
Bert pulled off his sweater, unstrapped his belt with shaking fingers
and knotted the latter to a sleeve of the sweater. Then he wriggled
forward at full length.
“Be careful,” cautioned Ben, his teeth chattering.
“I will,” answered Bert. “I’m lighter than you, Ben. I think I can get
pretty nearly out there.”
And he finally did, and then strove to throw the sweater where
Ben could reach it. But the thing seemed possessed of the imp of
perversity. Time and again Bert’s attempts put the sweater just outside
Ben’s reach, and once the latter, struggling to get hold of it, lost
his clutch on the edge of the ice and almost sank again. But finally
his fingers caught the edge of the woolen garment. Then, getting a
firm grip of it, he began to break the weak ice with his fist, while
Bert, wriggling away, took up the slack by inches. At last hard ice was
reached and then, taking the sweater between his teeth, Ben attempted
to lift his body out of the water. It was hard work, and time and again
when success was almost attained he went back. But finally, kicking and
thrashing and struggling, with Bert pulling as hard as the slippery
surface of the ice would allow, Ben got out, dripping and chilled. He
wriggled over to where Bert lay, not daring yet to trust himself on his
feet and scarcely in condition to stand up, for that matter, and sat
panting and shaking.
“B-b-better put your sweater on again,” he chattered.
“Not me,” said Bert. “You put it on, and hurry up with it. If you don’t
you’ll have a chill.”
“I g-g-guess I’ve got one now,” answered Ben. “That w-w-wat-er was
f-f-fierce!”
“Can’t you stand up?” asked Bert.
“Yes.” But it wasn’t easy and Ben had to cling to Bert in doing so.
Then Bert got his sweater over Ben’s, which was wringing wet, Ben
protesting all the while and weakly striving to resist.
“I d-d-don’t need it,” he chattered. “You’ll c-c-catch cold, Bryant.”
“I won’t, but you will,” replied Bert, rescuing his belt and putting it
on again. “Now come on. Can you skate?”
“No, I――I’d rather sit down a minute, I g-g-guess.”
“You can’t! You mustn’t! Come on, Ben, and get warm. Skate as hard as
you can. We’ll race back.”
Ben made a feeble effort, swayed, clung to Bert and shook his head.
“All right, then,” said Bert. “We’ll make this a rescue race and I’ll
slide you back.” He laughed and Ben tried to smile.
“N-n-no, wait a m-m-minute,” said Ben. “I’ll b-b-be all right. It’s
m-m-my legs, Bryant; they’re like ice.”
“Stamp around, Ben! Stretch them. That’s it. Better? Now see if you
can’t skate.”
Ben tried and succeeded in getting started. Very slowly they made the
turn around the end of the island and started back. But every movement
helped and soon Ben’s blood was stirring again in his chilled body and
the color began to creep back into his cheeks.
“That was a fool thing to do,” he said. “But I thought the ice was
thick enough to hold anyone. Gee, if you hadn’t been there I’d――I’d
been frozen by this time! I could keep afloat all right, but the water
was awful!”
“Skate faster,” said Bert, “and don’t talk.”
By the time the starting line was in sight Ben was making good time and
to the spectators it looked as though they were to see a wonderfully
close finish, for the two boys were side by side. There had been some
uneasiness because of the delay and the watchers breathed sighs of
relief when the two skaters came into sight again. Caps waved and
voices urged them on.
“Come on, Ben! Hit it up! You aren’t half skating!”
“Beat him, Bert! Beat him! Skate! Skate!”
Kid danced about and turned circles on his skates, all the time yelling
shrilly, and Nan, her pink cheeks rosier than ever from excitement,
clapped her hands and “rooted” for Bert. Down to the line came the two
skaters, skating fast but evidently quite tuckered out and showing a
lot of effort. The spectators skated to meet them, and then it was
that Ben’s wet clothes were noted and questions fell fast. Bert had no
thought of the race. He wanted to see Ben wrapped up warmly and started
on his way back to school. And he wanted to get there himself, for he
felt decidedly weak and sick, and every few moments a shiver went over
him. And so he never noticed when Ben slowed down almost at the line
and never noticed that he himself had skated across it and had won the
race until Lanny smote him on the back, almost sending him on his face,
and shouted:
“You won, Bert! He didn’t cross! He didn’t finish!”
But Bert paid no heed. He shouldered his way to Mr. Crane who was
stretching out his hand in congratulation.
“Ben went through the ice, sir,” he said, “and he ought to be taken
home right away. And I guess――I guess you’d better take me, too.”
Whereupon Bert sank against Mr. Crane and fainted dead away.