SKATING
Lakeport was a thriving town with a large number of inhabitants. Early
as it was many people were out, and nearly every passer-by was greeted
with a liberal dose of snowballs, for the lads of this down-East town
were as fun-loving as are boys anywhere, and to leave a “good mark” slip
past unnoticed was considered nothing short of a crime.
When Joe and Harry reached the lake front they found a crowd of fully
fifty men and boys, with a fair sprinkling of girls, engaged in skating
and in ice-boating. The majority of the people were in the vicinity of
the steamboat dock, for this was at the end of the main street, and a
great “hanging-out” spot during the summer. But others were skating up
the lake shore, and a few were following Dan Marcy’s new ice yacht,
_Silver Queen_, as she tacked along on her way to the west shore, where
an arm of the lake encircled the lower end of Pine Island.
“Marcy’s going to try to beat the lake record,” Joe heard one boy call
to another. “He says his new boat has got to knock the spots out of
anything that ever sailed on the lake, or he’ll chop her up for
firewood.”
“Well, she’ll have to hum along if she beats the time made by the old
_Whizzer_ last winter,” came from the other boy. “She sailed from the
big pine to Hallett’s Point in exactly four minutes and ten seconds. My,
but didn’t she scoot along!”
It took but a few minutes for Joe and Harry to don their skates. As they
left the shore they ran into Fred Rush, who was swinging along as if his
very life depended upon it.
“Hello, so you fellows have come down at last!” sang out Fred, who was
short and stout, and as full of fun as a lad can be. “Thought you had
made up your mind to go to bed again, or stay home and look for more
Christmas presents. Been having dead loads of fun—had a race and come in
second best, got knocked down twice, slipped on the ice over yonder, and
got a wet foot in a hole some fellow cut, and Jerry Little hit me in the
shin with his hockey stick. Say, but you fellows are positively missing
the time of your lives.”
“I want to miss it, if I’m going to have all those things happen to me,”
returned Joe, dryly. Then he added: “Harry tells me you got a
double-barreled shotgun almost like mine. How do you like it?”
“Like it? Say, that gun is the greatest thing that ever happened. I
tried it just before I came down to skate—fired both barrels at once,
because I didn’t have time to fire ’em separately. It knocked me flat,
and a snowbank was all that saved my life. But she’s a dandy. I’m going
to bring down a bear with that gun before the winter is over, you see if
I don’t.”
“How are you going to do it?” put in Harry. “Offer to let the animal
shoot off the gun, and kill him that way?”
“Don’t you make fun of me, Harry. You’ll see the bear sooner or later,
mark the remark.”
The three boys skated off, hand in hand, with Fred in the center. The
fun-loving youth was the only son of the town hardware dealer, and he
and the Westmore lads had grown up together from childhood. At school
Fred had proved himself far from being a dunce, but by some manner of
means he was almost constantly in “hot water;” why, nobody could
explain.
“Let Fred Rush pick up a poker, and he’ll get the hot end in his hand,”
said one of the girls one day, and this remark came close to hitting the
nail squarely on the head. Yet with all his trials and tribulations Fred
rarely lost his temper, and he was always ready to promise better things
for the future.
The boys skated a good half mile up the lake shore. At this point they
met several girls, and one of them, Cora Runnell, asked Joe if he would
fix her skate for her.
“Certainly I will,” replied the youth, and on the instant he was
kneeling on the ice and adjusting a clamp that had become wedged fast to
the shoe plate of the skate. Cora was the daughter of an old hunter and
trapper of that vicinity, and as he worked Joe asked her what her father
was doing.
“He isn’t doing anything just now,” was the girl’s answer. “He was out
acting as a guide for a party of New York sportsmen, but they went back
to the city last week.”
“Did you hear him say anything about game?”
“Yes, he said the season was a very good one. The party got six deer
over at Rawson Hill and a moose at Bender’s, and any quantity of small
game. I think pa’s going out alone in a day or two—just to see what he
can bring down for the market at Brookside.”
“I wish he’d take me along. I’ve got a new double-barreled shotgun that
I want to try the worst way.”
“And I’ve got one, too,” broke in Fred. “I’m sure we could bring down
lots of game between us.”
Cora Runnell looked at the stout youth, and began to giggle. “Oh, dear,
if you went along I guess pa’d have to hide behind a tree when you took
your turn at shooting.”
“Whoop, you’re discovered, Fred!” burst out Harry. “Cora must have heard
how you shot off both barrels at once, and——”
“Oh, I can shoot straight enough,” came doggedly from Fred. “Just you
give me the chance and see.”
“Well, you’ll have to see pa about going out with him,” answered Cora,
and then started to skate after her girl friends, who had moved off a
minute before, and were getting farther and farther away.
“Hi, there!” came suddenly in a shout from the lake shore. “Beware of
the ice boat!”
“The ice boat?” repeated Harry. “Where—— Oh!”
He glanced up the lake, and saw the _Silver Queen_ coming along as
swiftly as the stiff breeze could drive the craft over the glassy
surface. The ice boat was headed directly for the three boys, but now
the course was shifted slightly, and the craft pointed fairly and
squarely for the spot where Cora Runnell was skating along, all
unconscious of her danger.
“By gracious, Dan Marcy will run Cora down!” ejaculated Fred. He raised
his voice to a yell. “Stop! stop! you crazy fool! Do you want to kill
somebody?”
“Save my girl!” came from the shore. “Cora! Cora! Look out for the ice
boat!” But the girl did not heed the warning, and now the ice boat,
coming as swiftly as ever, was almost on top of her. Then the girl
happened to glance back. She gave a scream, tried to turn, but slipped,
and then sank in a heap directly in the track of the oncoming danger.