Chapter VIII. TWO IMPORTANT HAPPENINGS
It happened, however, that Mr. Sherwood did not go to Chicago to work inthe machine shop. Something happened before the week was out, that quiteput his intention aside.
Indeed, Nan declared that two important happenings just then changed thecurrent of affairs at the little cottage on Amity Street and that shehad a principal part in the action of the first of these unexpectedhappenings.
It was lovely skating on Norway Pond, and both Nan and her chum, BessHarley, were devoted to the sport. Nan had been unable to be on the iceSaturdays, because of her home tasks; but when her lessons were learned,she was allowed to go after supper.
It happened to be just at the dark of the moon this week; that kept manyoff the ice, although the weather was settled and the ice was perfectlysafe. Sometimes the boys built a bonfire on Woody Point, with refusefrom the planing mill, and that lit up a good bit of the ice.
But once out on the pond, away from the shadows cast by the high banks,the girls could see well enough. They were both good skaters, and witharms crossed and hands clasped, they swung up the middle of the pond infine style.
"I just love to skate with you, Nan," sighed Bess ecstatically. "Youmove just like my other self. We're Siamese twins. We strike outtogether perfectly. Oh, my dear! I don't see whatever I am to do if yourefuse to go to Lakeview with me."
Nan could scarcely keep from telling Bess of the wonderful new fortunethat seemed about to come to her; but she was faithful to her hometraining, and only said:
"Don't fret about it, honey. Maybe something will turn up to let me go."
"If you'd let my father pay your way-----?" insinuated Bess.
"Don't talk of that. It's impossible," said Nan decisively. "It's a longtime yet to fall. Maybe conditions will be different at home. A dozenthings may happen before school opens in September."
"Yes! But they may not be the right things," sighed Bess.
She could not be too melancholy on such a night as this, however. It wasperfectly quiet, and the arch of the sky was like black velvet prickedout with gold and silver stars. Their soft radiance shed some light uponthe pond, enough, at least, to show the girl chums the way before themas they skimmed on toward Powerton Landing.
They had left a noisy crowd of boys behind them, near the stamp Factory,mostly mill boys, and the like. Bess had been taught at home to shrinkfrom association with the mill people and that is why she had urged Nanto take this long skate up the pond. Around the Tillbury end of it theywere always falling in with little groups of mill boys and girls whomBess did not care to meet.
There was another reason this evening for keeping away from the stampfactory, too. The manager of that big shop had hired a gang of icecutters a few days before, and had filled his own private icehouse. Themen had cut out a roughly outlined square of the thick ice, sawed itinto cakes, and poled it to shore and so to the sleds and the manager'sicehouse.
It was not a large opening in the ice; but even if the frost continued,it would be several days before the new ice would form thickly enough tobear again over that spot.
Elsewhere, however, the ice was strong, for all the cutting for thebig icehouses had been done long before near the Landing. The lights ofPowerton Landing were twinkling ahead of them as the two friends swepton up the long lake. The wind was in their faces, such wind as therewas, and the air was keen and nippy.
The action of skating, however, kept Nan and Bess warm. Bess in her fursand Nan in her warm tam-o'-shanter and the muffler Momsey had knittedwith her own hands, did not mind the cold.
The evening train shrieked out of the gap and across the long trestlejust beyond the landing, where it halted for a few seconds forpassengers to embark or to leave the cars. This train was from Chicago,and on Monday Papa Sherwood expected to go to that big city to work.
The thought gave Nan a feeling of depression. The little family in theAmity street cottage had never been separated for more than a daysince she could remember. It was going to be hard on Momsey, with PapaSherwood away and Nan in school all day. How were they going to getalong without Papa Sherwood coming home to supper, and doing the hardchores?
Bess awoke her chum from these dreams. "Dear me, Nan! Have you lost yourtongue all of a sudden? Do say something, or do something."
"Let's race the train down the pond to Tillbury," proposed Naninstantly.
The lights of the long coaches were just moving out of the station atthe Landing. The two girls came about in a graceful curve and struckout for home at a pace that even the train could not equal. The railsfollowed the shore of the pond on the narrow strip of lowland at thefoot of the bluffs. They could see the lights shining through the carwindows all the way.
The fireman threw open the door of his firebox to feed the furnace anda great glare of light, and a shower of sparks, spouted from thesmokestack. The rumble of the wheels from across the ice seemed louderthan usual.
"Come on, Bess!" gasped Nan, quite excited. "We can do better than this!Why, that old train will beat us!"
For they were falling behind. The train hooted its defiance as it sweptdown toward Woody Point. The girls shot in toward the shore, where theshadow of the high bluff lay heavily upon the ice.
They heard the boys' voices somewhere below them, but Bess and Nan couldnot see them yet. They knew that the boys had divided into sides andwere playing old-fashioned hockey, "shinny-on-your-own-side" as it waslocally called. Above the rumbling of the train they heard the crack ofthe shinny-stick against the wooden block, and the "z-z-z-zip!" of themissile as it scaled over the ice.
"Those boys will get into the ice-hole if they don't look out," Nan hadjust said to her chum, when suddenly a wild yell arose from the hockeyplayers.
The train was slowing down at the signal tower, and finally stoppedthere. A freight had got in on the main track which had to be clearedbefore the passenger train could go into Tillbury station. The coachesstood right along the edge of the frozen pond.
But it was nothing in connection with the evening train that caused sucha commotion among the skaters near the stamp factory. There was a crashof breaking ice and a scrambling of skaters away from the spot. Theboys' yells communicated panic to other people ashore.
"He's in! He's in!" Nan and Bess heard the boys yelling. Then a man'svoice took up the cry: "He'll be drowned! Help! Help!"
"That's old Peter Newkirk," gasped Nan, squeezing Bess' gloved handstightly. "He's night watchman at the stamp works, and he has only onearm. He can't help that boy."
The youngsters who had been playing hockey so recklessly near the thinice, were not as old as Nan and Bess, and the accident had thrown theminto utter confusion. Some skated for the shore, screaming for ropesand fence-rails; others only tried to get away from the danger spotthemselves. None did the first thing to help their comrade who hadbroken through the ice.
"Where are you going, Nan?" gasped Bess, pulling back. "You'll have usboth in the water, too."
"We can save him! Quick!" returned her chum eagerly.
She let go of Bess and unwound the long muffler from about her own neck."If we could only see him!" the girl said, over and over.
And then a brilliant idea struck Nan Sherwood, and she turned to shoutto old Peter Newkirk on the shore. "Peter! Peter! Turn on the electriclight sign! Turn it on so we can see where he's gone in!"
The watchman had all his wits about him. There was a huge electric signon the stamp works roof, advertising the company's output. The glare ofit could be seen for miles, and it lit up brilliantly the surroundingsof the mill.
Peter Newkirk bounded away to the main door of the works. The switchthat controlled the huge sign was just inside that door. Before Nanand Bess had reached the edge of the broken ice, the electricity wassuddenly shot into the sign and the whole neighborhood was alight.
"I see him! There he is!" gasped Nan to her chum. "Hold me tight by theskirt, Bess! We'll get him!"
She flung herself to her knees and stopped slid
ing just at the edge ofthe old, thick ice. With a sweep of her strong young arm she shot theend of the long muffler right into the clutching hands of the drowningboy.
Involuntarily he seized it. He had been down once, and submersion inthe ice water had nearly deprived him of both consciousness and powerto help save himself. But Nan drew him quickly through the shatteredice-cakes to the edge of the firm crystal where she knelt.
"We have him! We have him!" she cried, in triumph. "Give me your hand,boy! I won't let you go down again."
But to lift him entirely out of the water would have been too much forher strength. However, several men came running now from the stalledpassenger train. The lighting of the electric sign had revealed to themwhat was going on upon the pond.
The man who lifted the half-drowned boy out of the water was not one ofthe train crew, but a passenger. He was a huge man in a bearskin coatand felt boots. He was wrapped up so heavily, and his fur cap was pulleddown so far over his ears and face, that Nan could not see what hereally looked like. In a great, gruff voice he said:
"Well, now! Give me a girl like you ev'ry time! I never saw the beat ofit. Here, mister!" as he put the rescued boy into the arms of a man whohad just run from a nearby house. "Get him between blankets and he'll beall right. But he's got this smart little girl to thank that he's aliveat all."
He swung around to look at Nan again. Bess was crying frankly, with hergloved hands before her face. "Oh, Nan! Nan!" she sobbed. "I didn't do athing, not a thing. I didn't even hang to the tail of your skirt as youtold me. I, I'm an awful coward."
The big man patted Nan's shoulder lightly. "There's a little girl thatI'm going to see here in Tillbury," he said gruffly. "I hope she turnsout to be half as smart as you are, sissy." Then he tramped back to thetrain that was just then starting.
Nan began to laugh. "Did you hear that funny man?" she asked Bess. "Dostop your crying, Bess! You have no reason to cry. You are not hurt."
"But, but you might have been, been drowned, too," sobbed her chum. "Ididn't help you a mite."
"Bother!" exclaimed Nan Sherwood. "Don't let's talk about it. We'll gohome. I guess we've both had enough skating for tonight."
Bess wiped away her tears and clung to Nan's hand all the way to theirusual corner for separating. Nan ran home from there quickly and burstinto the kitchen to find Momsey and Papa Sherwood in the midst of a veryserious conference.
"What is the matter?" cried Nan, startled by the gravity of her fatherand the exaltation upon her mother's face. "What's happened?"
"A very great thing, Nan, honey," said Momsey, drawing her daughter toher side. "Tell her, Papa Sherwood."
He sighed deeply and put away the letter they had been reading. "It'sfrom Mr. Blake, of Edinburgh," he said. "I can no longer doubt theexistence of the fortune, my dears. But I fear we shall have to strivefor it in the Scotch courts."
"Oh!" cried Nan, under her breath.
"Mr. Blake tells us here that it is absolutely necessary for us to cometo Scotland, and for your mother to appear in person before the courtthere. The sum of money and other property willed to Momsey by her greatuncle is so large that the greatest care will be exercised by the Scotchjudges to see that it goes to the right person."
"As your mother once said, we must throw a sprat to catch a herring. Inthis case we shall be throwing a sprat to catch a whale! For the amountof money we may have to spend to secure the fifty thousand dollars leftby Mr. Hugh Blake, of Emberon, is small, in comparison to the fortuneitself.
"We must go to Scotland," finished Mr. Sherwood firmly. "And we muststart as soon as possible."
Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp; Or, The Old Lumberman's Secret Page 8