SKATING
Chicken Little watched Ernest tie his red muffler around his neck and
sling his skates across his shoulder, enviously.
"I wish I could go skating," she sighed.
"You shall some day, dear," said her mother, who was sitting sewing by
the open fire. "But the pond is too far away for you to go without some
older person to look after you."
"I don't see why Ernest and Carol couldn't look after me."
"They would forget you in ten minutes. No, you must be patient, little
daughter, and wait till you are bigger."
Chicken Little flattened her nose against the cold pane ruefully.
"You may go and play with Katy and Gertie for an hour if you wish."
But Jane didn't wish. She was a child of one idea and her head was
filled with visions of Cedar Pond and its crowd of gay skaters. She
could fairly see the boys gliding away across the glistening surface or
cutting fancy figures they loved to boast of. She knew some of the girls
at school skated. She had listened to glowing tales of the sport at
recess the day before.
She peered out the window, an ugly little pucker creasing her forehead.
Marian, coming in a few minutes later, found her glooming there still.
"What a long face, little sister, what's the matter? Have you broken
your Xmas dolly or lost that new bracelet or what?"
"Oh, Marian, did you ever skate?"
"Skate?--I should say so. Frank and I are going out this afternoon after
the bank closes."
"Oh, Marian, couldn't I go, too? Mother said I might learn if I only had
some grown up person to go with."
"But you haven't any skates, Jane."
This was a poser, but Jane moved a way out. "Maybe Grace Dart would let
me have hers. May I ask Mother?"
Marian hesitated a moment, but the child's face was very pleading and
she replied heartily:
"Come along if your mother will let you. We'll look after you--you may
as well ask Katie and Gertie, too. Katy knows how to skate a little, I
think."
Mrs. Morton's consent was soon obtained as well as Mrs. Halford's. Grace
Dart intended to use her own skates, but Mrs. Morton said Jane might as
well buy a pair, if she were really going to learn. Marian volunteered
to get them for her on the way down.
Chicken Little was gay as a robin redbreast when she ran to meet Marian
at the side gate. She was in red from top to toe, red coat, red leggings
and red hood. And she was so excited she acted like a much distracted
robin, as Marian told her a little later.
"She does enter into things so heart and soul," Marian confided to
Frank, "she fairly quivers with excitement sometimes. Katy and Gertie
are so different. They enjoy themselves just as much but they don't tire
themselves out as Chicken Little does."
"Sis is too high strung, I guess--gets it from Father's people. Funny,
too, she's a sober little puss a good deal of the time."
The new skates were soon purchased and slung over her shoulder in exact
imitation of the way she had seen the boys carry theirs. They looked
delightfully sharp and glittering. Chicken Little felt immensely
superior to Katy whose skates were two years old and not nearly so
shiny.
It was a radiant afternoon, frosty and clear. The pond was covered with
skaters of all ages. Some of the men were pulling women and children on
sleds.
Frank strapped the little girls' skates on firmly. Katy struck off
boldly for herself, while Marian helped Gertie. Frank undertook to keep
Chicken Little from measuring her length on the ice--no small task for
the child was ambitious and daring. Great was her joy when she finally
succeeded in taking a few short strokes without having her feet shoot
out from under her. Presently Frank left her to her own devices while he
went to skate with Marian.
"My feet don't seem to want to go the same way I do," she complained to
Gertie after two hard bumps.
Gertie was proceeding more cautiously and had fewer falls in
consequence.
"I guess you'll learn pretty soon--my--just see Katy!"
Katy was circling around as gracefully and easily as if there were no
such thing as falls to dread. Chicken Little began to lose faith in the
superiority of her new skates.
"Katy skates most as well as the boys--I don't see how she does it," she
said enviously.
"Cousin Sim taught her last winter. Oh, see, those boys are making an
eight on the ice and,--Carol's writing his name I do believe."
"Yes, and there's Pat and Mike--dear me, it seems as if everybody can
skate just as easy 'cept me."
The little girls stood watching the boys wistfully as they glided along
cutting marvellous figures on the ice. The boys were bent on showing off
for Marian's benefit.
"Tired, little girls?" called the latter, skating gaily past, her cheeks
rosy with exercise and the frosty air.
"No--o," said Jane slowly, "I'm not tired but my ankles hurt and the ice
seems to get slipprier and slipprier."
"I'll help you if you want me to," said a voice at her elbow, and
Chicken Little looked around to find Pat Casey standing shyly beside
her, cap in hand.
"I think I could be after showing you how to do it."
She hesitated a moment wondering what her mother would say to her
skating with Pat, then deciding to take the chance, put out her hand
with a little smile. Things went better after that for the Irish lad had
a good deal of chivalry in his make-up and was very patient and careful.
"Hello, Pat," said Frank, skating up. "That's good of you--I believe
you're a better teacher than I was. You'll skate like a bird in no time,
Sis, you're so light. Ice is tricky at first--throws you like a balky
horse till you get the hang of it. Come on, I'll take you for another
turn."
Frank took her spinning with him clear to the end of the pond. When they
started back he made her strike out for herself, steadying her with his
hand. Before they got back to the big bon-fire at the starting point,
Chicken Little had discovered the all-important secret of keeping her
balance.
Ernest and Carol came up in great excitement to tell them there were
going to be races and the spectators must line up along the sides of the
pond.
"See they are starting now--you must be careful to keep off the track,
girls. Here, let's go over by that rock."
Frank made haste to post his small charges midway of the course, where
they could have a clear view of both ends of the pond.
Six young men lined up at the starting point while the starter stood off
to one side to give the signal and another man was posted at the farther
end of the course.
"One, two, three--go!"
The starter snapped the words out and the men swung off in long steady
strides. Faster and faster they came till it seemed to Chicken Little
they fairly flew. She watched them closely as they came nearer--there
seemed something familiar about one of the racers. Suddenly she gave a
little shriek of surprise.
"Why, it's Mr. Harding--see, see! It is Mr. Harding. Oh, I just hope
he'll beat! Don't you think he'll beat, Frank?"
"He is a good skater, all right, Sis, but that dark chap is going it
strong, too. They have to make the circuit of the pond three times. We
can tell better the next lap."
Dick Harding heard Jane's exclamation and waved his hand at her as they
swung by. He was about six feet behind the dark man, skating easily with
long swinging strokes. Chicken Little waved her red mittened hand
enthusiastically in return.
Carol and Ernest, who had been trying to follow the racers along the
edge of the pond, pulled up along side for a breathing spell.
"Say, Frank," exclaimed Ernest, "they say that dark fellow is a
professional skater--his name is Sanders."
"Yes, and Sherm says he's tricky--he has just come here from some place
up on the lakes," added Carol.
"I'm afraid he has Harding outclassed," replied Frank watching the
racers circle gracefully around the end of the pond and start toward
them again. The dark stranger was in the lead and Harding a couple of
lengths behind, with the other four spilling out at irregular distances
in the rear.
"He keeps crowding Harding out--do you see? He cuts across his path
every now and then, but part of the time he only makes a feint so
Harding loses a stroke and he doesn't. I don't think that's fair!"
Ernest raised his voice indignantly.
Frank watched them a moment keenly before he replied.
"You're right--that is what he is doing--and it isn't clean sport. He's
tricky--I'd like to see Harding beat him; but I'm afraid he can't. He's
soft yet for we haven't had more than two week's skating here, and this
chap has probably been at it for two months or more up north."
"Oh, Frank, isn't he skating fair? Do you think he's going to beat Mr.
Harding?" Chicken Little was genuinely distressed.
"Can't tell, Chicken, watch and see!"
The racers turned the end of the pond for the second time and came
swiftly past--Harding about the same distance behind the other as
before. Again they turned and shot past for the third round, the
stranger still pursuing his tactics of interfering with his rival.
"Jove, that makes me hot!" Frank exclaimed wrathfully. "I believe
Harding could beat him on a fair and square race."
"Gee, I wish we could make him give way once himself, the scoundrel!"
Ernest shook his fist viciously at Sanders' back.
"If he had to turn out just once would it help Mr. Harding?" demanded
Jane.
Her own party were so intent upon the race that no one replied, but Pat,
who had just skated up, answered her question himself when he found the
others were ignoring it.
"It'd help--but sure Mr. Harding's too grand a gentleman to do that kind
of dirty work!"
"Oh, I just wish we could make him turn out!"
No one heeded her but Pat and he replied only with a grin.
Chicken Little clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. The men had
made their last turn and were heading swiftly toward them on the home
stretch. Harding had gained a little on his antagonist and was scarcely
three feet behind.
"He is gaining--if Sanders will only play fair!" said Frank tensely, his
eyes glued on the two dark forms.
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Sanders made a feint to
cross directly in front of his competitor and Harding lost a length in
consequence.
"Confound him!" growled Frank, "the judges oughtn't to stand for that!"
Chicken Little stood fascinated, gazing at the advancing figures.
Her small fists clenched as she saw Harding drop the few paces behind.
Suddenly an idea popped into her head. Forgetful of her own uncertain
feet, and both ignorant and reckless of any danger, she darted forward,
a small red danger signal directly in front of Mr. Sanders as he came
opposite. The annoyed racer swerved quickly to the right, but poor Jane
once started could not stop, and would have fallen a scarlet heap in
Dick Harding's path had not Pat, divining her intention, followed
swiftly and grabbing her by the shoulder steered her in a sharp curve
out of the way. She got a good scolding from both Frank and Marian when
Pat brought her back to them.
"You might have been hurt--you almost spoiled the race--don't you ever
do anything so foolhardy again, Jane." This from Marian.
Frank was still more severe. "I'm ashamed of you, Sis. Did you suppose
Dick Harding would be willing to win the race by a trick--besides you
nearly tripped him. If Pat hadn't been so quick there would have been a
bad mix-up."
Chicken Little scarcely heeded at first because from the far end of the
pond a shout went up, and looking with wide eyes, she saw the dark
stranger and Mr. Harding slip over the line together--it was a tie!
Then Frank's words began to sink in. The idea that she might have hurt
or disgraced her beloved Mr. Harding frightened her much more than the
possible danger to herself. Her eyes filled with tears and though she
tried valiantly to wink them away, they soon overflowed.
Katy and Gertie eyed her curiously, and Frank and Marian though they
felt sorry for the child, felt that she needed a lesson. Ernest
returning from the finish, felt called upon to rub it in still further.
"What in the dickens were you trying to do, Jane Morton, were you
crazy?"
Chicken Little answered never a word, but the tears dripped faster and
an observing person would have noticed that the child was digging her
finger nails into her palms to keep back the sobs. But her family was
too disgusted with her to be either sympathetic or observing. They
scarcely noticed that she was loitering behind.
She had no definite purpose till she saw they were about to pass Dick
Harding who was the center of an admiring group. This was more than she
could stand, and dropping a little farther behind, she slipped into the
crowd and started off in the opposite direction. No one missed her for a
time as they all stopped to congratulate Dick. It was not until he
inquired what the child had been trying to do in her reckless dash, that
her absence was discovered.
"Oh, Frank, I am afraid we were too hard on her!" exclaimed Marian.
Frank himself looked anxious for it was fast growing dusk. He scanned
the thinning crowd on the pond sharply--no little red figure was to be
seen.
"She can't have gone far!" he said now genuinely alarmed.
"Marian, you go on home with the children and I'll find her."
"Let me go with you--poor little girlie she was trying her small best to
help me." Harding was scanning the pond narrowly as he spoke.
"I believe she must be behind that big tree across there. She could
hardly have got completely out of sight any place else."
Dick Harding fastened on his skates and hurried across the pond to a big
oak, which stood flanked by a clump of bushes close to the edge of the
bank.
Sure enough, Chicken Little had flung herself down in the snow behind
the tree, and was sobbing her heart out. He lifted her tenderly.
"Dear me, little friend, this won't do--where's my little champion who
tried to help me win the race just now?"
Chicken Little hushed her sobs in astonishment.
"Frank said--he said--he----" the tears were coming again, "he said I'd
disgraced you and I didn't think--you'd ever speak to me again!"
"Nonsense, Jane, listen to me. I am proud and happy that you wanted to
help me--it wasn't the best way to do it, but you didn't know. Now come,
dry your tears and let's hurry back to the others--they thought they'd
lost you."
"And you aren't ashamed of me?"
"Ashamed of you? Bless your heart, I am proud to have such a staunch
friend."