COLD WEATHER IN TEXAS.
In the shelter of Bear Cove, the shore of which was heavily wooded with
a growth of pine, Rodney Grant clamped on his skates. Through the still
night air, at intervals, came the faint, faraway shouts of skaters who
were enjoying themselves on the broad lower end of the lake. From a
distance, while making his way to this secluded spot, Rod had seen the
gleaming light of a bonfire which had been built on Crooked Island;
and, pausing for a few moments, he had watched the flitting, darting
figures of the skaters passing between himself and the light, which
flared and rose with the application of fresh fuel brought from along
the shores. And while he watched a feeling of loneliness crept over the
young Texan.
“But I’ll keep away from them until I can skate some,” he muttered, as
he resumed his journey across the frozen fields and pastures.
Having secured the skates to the stout soles of his heavy boots, Rod
started to rise, but dropped back with a faint grunt of surprise as the
irons shot out from beneath him.
“Right slippery things,” he half chuckled. “I reckon I’ll have to be
careful how I get up.”
A sapling close by the shore aided him, but when he had reached an
upright position he found to his perplexity that instinct led him to
cling fast to that slender young tree, with the apprehension of a fall
strong upon him in case he ventured to let go. His ankles were inclined
to wobble weakly, and a queer, disconcerting sensation of uncertainty
made him hold his breath.
“What’s the matter with me?” he growled fretfully. “I didn’t expect to
skate right off in polished style, but I’ll be hanged if I believe I
can even stand up on the things. I’ve watched the fellows at it, and it
seems easy enough to go skimming around first on one foot and then on
the other. They didn’t make any mess at all about it.”
His feet started backward beneath him, and he pulled himself up,
causing the sapling to bend and crack.
“Maybe these new skates are too blamed slippery,” he thought. “If
that’s right, I wonder why the man who sold them to me didn’t say
something about it. Well, I don’t care a rap; I’m going to give them a
try.”
With an effort, he swung round and let go his hold on the sapling. The
sensation of suspense and uncertainty deepened swiftly as he found the
skates slowly carrying him away from the shore, while at the same time
he realized that his feet were spreading farther and farther apart, a
thing he could not seem to prevent.
“Great smoke!” he gasped. “I’ll split plumb in two if this keeps up.
Ugh!”
The final grunt was pounded from his lips as he came down sprawlingly
upon the solid ice.
For at least thirty seconds he sat there, scratching his head in a
state of doubt and chagrin.
“I’ve ridden buckers,” he said, “and I’ve even busted one or two bad
ones; but I knew how to go at that job, while this business has got me
stuck complete. I’m guessing some.”
His perplexity was rapidly changing to annoyance and vexation. Getting
on his knees, he cautiously placed his right foot beneath him and
attempted to rise. In a twinkling he was stretched at full length upon
his stomach.
“Dash the things!” he cried savagely. “I don’t see how anybody ever
stands on them, much less goes scooting around doing fancy tricks.
Maybe if I could get Stone to give me some pointers I might catch onto
the game. But I don’t want any one to give me pointers,” he continued
warmly. “I’ll learn how to skate all by my lonesome, or I’ll break my
wooden head.”
Aroused to this point, he continued his efforts with grim and unabated
determination, in spite of repeated falls, some of which shook him up
thoroughly and quite knocked the wind out of him. He was just beginning
to fancy himself making slight progress when a burst of laughter caused
him to twist his neck round to glance toward the nearby shore, which
incautious movement again sent him flat upon the ice.
“Woosh!” he wheezed, sitting up.
“Oh! ho! ho! ho!” shouted some one, who seemed to be literally choking
with merriment.
“Hee! hee! hee!” laughed another voice.
He could see them there at the edge of the ice, two dark figures
faintly discernible in spite of the black background of pines.
“You seem to be plenty amused, gents,” he observed sarcastically. “I
opine I’m providing a better entertainment than a real circus clown
could hand out; but I want you to understand this is a strictly private
show, and you’re not at all welcome unless you can show invitation
cards.”
“Oh, say!” piped a high-pitched voice; “it’s the feller from Texas, I
guess. He don’t seem to know much about skating.”
“How did you ever get that idea?” growled Rod. “I’m the champion skater
of the Panhandle country. I’ll guarantee you can’t find a native son of
Rogers County, Texas, who can show me any points at skating.”
One of the fellows came sliding out onto the ice, followed slowly by
the other.
“Funny you should be all alone here,” said the chap in advance. “You
know me—Spotty Davis.”
“Oh, Davis!” muttered Rod, not particularly mollified, recalling
instantly that he had heard something about the fellow having been
concerned in a particularly low and contemptible trick upon Stone,
which had placed him in decided disfavor at Oakdale. “What are you
doing here?”
“Me and my friend, Lander, came over here to skate,” explained Spotty.
“Why didn’t you skate down the lake with the rest of the fellows?”
“Oh, we’ve got our reasons. You see Lander he’s just come back to
Oakdale after being away for a couple of years, and he don’t care much
about the fellers ’round here.”
“They’re a lot of stiffs, the whole bunch of them,” said Lander.
“Spotty is the only friend I have got in town that I care a rap about.
He’s the only one who seemed glad to see me back. Some of ’em wouldn’t
even say hullo.”
“I guess Grant knows what they are,” chuckled Davis. “They’ve handed
him the frosty, too. That was some of Berlin Barker’s work, and the
rest of the crowd fell into line.”
“Barker!” sneered Lander. “He thinks he’s somebody. I ain’t got no use
for him, nor for Roger Eliot, either.”
“Eliot!” snapped Davis. “He threw me down; kicked me off the team. I
won’t forget it, and some day, perhaps, I’ll have a chance to get even.
Just learning to skate, Grant?”
“Just trying my hand at it—I mean my foot.”
“You certainly was making a mess,” snickered Spotty. “You need some one
to give you a few pointers. Wait till we put on our skates, and we’ll
show you. Eh, Bunk?”
“Sure,” agreed Lander cheerfully. “I don’t believe there’s anybody
around Oakdale can skate better than me.”
“You seem to have a right good opinion of yourself,” said Rod, as the
two boys seated themselves on the ice and began fastening on their
skates.
“Oh, there ain’t much of anything I can’t do first-class,” boasted Bunk
Lander. “I’m a ripping good swimmer, and I can play baseball and
football as well as the next feller.”
“You remind me some of a gent who dropped into Rogers County, Texas,
two years ago,” said Grant. “He was from the East, and his name was Jim
Lander. Any relation, I wonder?”
“I don’t know; never bother any about my relatives. How was it this Jim
Lander reminded you of me?”
“Why, he gave out the same generous flow of hot air; he was always
telling how good he was. The punchers christened him Hot Air Jim. Why,
his line of talk would melt ice in zero weather, and he proved it, too.
You know we don’t have much ice down that way, but that year there came
a big freeze. It seemed to strike Rogers County in particular, and it
was the worst ever known. Why, gents, it actually froze the Canadian
River stiff clean to the bottom in a single night.”
“What are you giving us?” exclaimed Lander.
“I was starting in to tell you how this yere gent we called Hot Air Jim
saved us from a terrible calamity,” answered Rod soberly; “but if you
don’t want to hear it——”
“Go ahead,” urged Davis. “Spiel it off.”
“Well, as I was saying, that sudden freeze congealed the whole Canadian
in those parts till the river was like an Alpine glacier. It was sure
enough extraordinary, for such a thing never happened before. There
wasn’t any snowfall accompanying the phenomenon, for I judge it was too
cold to snow. What was more remarkable, the zone of that freeze didn’t
seem to extend more than fifty miles or so into the mountains. Beyond
that the river flowed on in the same old fashion, but when it hit the
cold country it simply turned to ice and went to piling up higher and
higher, choking its channel and overflowing in all directions. That dam
of ice heaped itself up across the mouth of a huge valley, until the
force of the water behind it began to push it along across Rogers
County. We discovered the ice was moving slowly at first, but after a
time you could see it creep along, groaning and cracking and
complaining all the while. And don’t forget that it was spreading out
over the country just as fast as the water behind it forced it down out
of the mountains.
“You can perceive, I opine, that the whole Canadian country was
threatened with devastation, for the irresistible force of that mass of
ice was sure bound to sweep everything before it. People were in a
panic when they came to realize this. The only thing that could save us
was a sudden break in the cold spell, and we saw no signs of that. Then
I thought of Jim Lander. It was a great thought, gents. I sent for him
and brought him out there and set him to blowing off hot air about
himself. Inside of half an hour the thermometer went up twenty points,
and the temperature of the surrounding country for at least a hundred
miles was modified amazingly.
“Pretty soon the ice began to melt and run, and this continued as long
as we could keep that man Lander talking. Maybe you won’t believe it,
but inside of two hours the ice was all melted and the river pouring
down its bed in a perfect flood, while the surrounding country was a
foot deep in water. Then we tried to shut Lander off; but he had
started going, and he couldn’t seem to stop. Say! he kept on blowing
until the water began to steam and get hot, and in his immediate
vicinity it actually boiled. We had to capture the man and gag him in
order to prevent the whole of Rogers County from being cooked then and
there.”
“Gee!” said Bunk Lander. “That sounds me like a lie.”
“It is possible!” murmured Grant.
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