by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XII.
COLD WEATHER IN TEXAS.
In the shelter of Bear Cove, the shore of which was heavily wooded witha growth of pine, Rodney Grant clamped on his skates. Through the stillnight air, at intervals, came the faint, faraway shouts of skaters whowere enjoying themselves on the broad lower end of the lake. From adistance, while making his way to this secluded spot, Rod had seen thegleaming light of a bonfire which had been built on Crooked Island;and, pausing for a few moments, he had watched the flitting, dartingfigures of the skaters passing between himself and the light, whichflared and rose with the application of fresh fuel brought from alongthe shores. And while he watched a feeling of loneliness crept over theyoung Texan.
“But I’ll keep away from them until I can skate some,” he muttered, ashe resumed his journey across the frozen fields and pastures.
Having secured the skates to the stout soles of his heavy boots, Rodstarted to rise, but dropped back with a faint grunt of surprise as theirons shot out from beneath him.
“Right slippery things,” he half chuckled. “I reckon I’ll have to becareful how I get up.”
A sapling close by the shore aided him, but when he had reached anupright position he found to his perplexity that instinct led him tocling fast to that slender young tree, with the apprehension of a fallstrong upon him in case he ventured to let go. His ankles were inclinedto wobble weakly, and a queer, disconcerting sensation of uncertaintymade him hold his breath.
“What’s the matter with me?” he growled fretfully. “I didn’t expect toskate right off in polished style, but I’ll be hanged if I believe Ican even stand up on the things. I’ve watched the fellows at it, and itseems easy enough to go skimming around first on one foot and then onthe 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. “Ifthat’s right, I wonder why the man who sold them to me didn’t saysomething about it. Well, I don’t care a rap; I’m going to give them atry.”
With an effort, he swung round and let go his hold on the sapling. Thesensation of suspense and uncertainty deepened swiftly as he found theskates slowly carrying him away from the shore, while at the same timehe realized that his feet were spreading farther and farther apart, athing 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 sprawlinglyupon the solid ice.
For at least thirty seconds he sat there, scratching his head in astate of doubt and chagrin.
“I’ve ridden buckers,” he said, “and I’ve even busted one or two badones; but I knew how to go at that job, while this business has got mestuck complete. I’m guessing some.”
His perplexity was rapidly changing to annoyance and vexation. Gettingon his knees, he cautiously placed his right foot beneath him andattempted to rise. In a twinkling he was stretched at full length uponhis stomach.
“Dash the things!” he cried savagely. “I don’t see how anybody everstands on them, much less goes scooting around doing fancy tricks.Maybe if I could get Stone to give me some pointers I might catch ontothe game. But I don’t want any one to give me pointers,” he continuedwarmly. “I’ll learn how to skate all by my lonesome, or I’ll break mywooden head.”
Aroused to this point, he continued his efforts with grim and unabateddetermination, in spite of repeated falls, some of which shook him upthoroughly and quite knocked the wind out of him. He was just beginningto fancy himself making slight progress when a burst of laughter causedhim to twist his neck round to glance toward the nearby shore, whichincautious 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 chokingwith merriment.
“Hee! hee! hee!” laughed another voice.
He could see them there at the edge of the ice, two dark figuresfaintly discernible in spite of the black background of pines.
“You seem to be plenty amused, gents,” he observed sarcastically. “Iopine I’m providing a better entertainment than a real circus clowncould hand out; but I want you to understand this is a strictly privateshow, and you’re not at all welcome unless you can show invitationcards.”
“Oh, say!” piped a high-pitched voice; “it’s the feller from Texas, Iguess. He don’t seem to know much about skating.”
“How did you ever get that idea?” growled Rod. “I’m the champion skaterof the Panhandle country. I’ll guarantee you can’t find a native son ofRogers County, Texas, who can show me any points at skating.”
One of the fellows came sliding out onto the ice, followed slowly bythe other.
“Funny you should be all alone here,” said the chap in advance. “Youknow me—Spotty Davis.”
“Oh, Davis!” muttered Rod, not particularly mollified, recallinginstantly that he had heard something about the fellow having beenconcerned in a particularly low and contemptible trick upon Stone,which had placed him in decided disfavor at Oakdale. “What are youdoing 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 toOakdale after being away for a couple of years, and he don’t care muchabout 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’teven say hullo.”
“I guess Grant knows what they are,” chuckled Davis. “They’ve handedhim the frosty, too. That was some of Berlin Barker’s work, and therest of the crowd fell into line.”
“Barker!” sneered Lander. “He thinks he’s somebody. I ain’t got no usefor him, nor for Roger Eliot, either.”
“Eliot!” snapped Davis. “He threw me down; kicked me off the team. Iwon’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 oneto give you a few pointers. Wait till we put on our skates, and we’llshow you. Eh, Bunk?”
“Sure,” agreed Lander cheerfully. “I don’t believe there’s anybodyaround Oakdale can skate better than me.”
“You seem to have a right good opinion of yourself,” said Rod, as thetwo boys seated themselves on the ice and began fastening on theirskates.
“Oh, there ain’t much of anything I can’t do first-class,” boasted BunkLander. “I’m a ripping good swimmer, and I can play baseball andfootball 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 JimLander. Any relation, I wonder?”
“I don’t know; never bother any about my relatives. How was it this JimLander reminded you of me?”
“Why, he gave out the same generous flow of hot air; he was alwaystelling 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 camea big freeze. It seemed to strike Rogers County in particular, and itwas the worst ever known. Why, gents, it actually froze the CanadianRiver 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 Jimsaved us from a terrible calamity,” answered Rod soberly; “but if youdon’t want to hear it——”
&n
bsp; “Go ahead,” urged Davis. “Spiel it off.”
“Well, as I was saying, that sudden freeze congealed the whole Canadianin those parts till the river was like an Alpine glacier. It was sureenough extraordinary, for such a thing never happened before. Therewasn’t any snowfall accompanying the phenomenon, for I judge it was toocold to snow. What was more remarkable, the zone of that freeze didn’tseem to extend more than fifty miles or so into the mountains. Beyondthat the river flowed on in the same old fashion, but when it hit thecold country it simply turned to ice and went to piling up higher andhigher, choking its channel and overflowing in all directions. That damof ice heaped itself up across the mouth of a huge valley, until theforce of the water behind it began to push it along across RogersCounty. We discovered the ice was moving slowly at first, but after atime you could see it creep along, groaning and cracking andcomplaining all the while. And don’t forget that it was spreading outover the country just as fast as the water behind it forced it down outof the mountains.
“You can perceive, I opine, that the whole Canadian country wasthreatened with devastation, for the irresistible force of that mass ofice was sure bound to sweep everything before it. People were in apanic when they came to realize this. The only thing that could save uswas a sudden break in the cold spell, and we saw no signs of that. ThenI thought of Jim Lander. It was a great thought, gents. I sent for himand brought him out there and set him to blowing off hot air abouthimself. Inside of half an hour the thermometer went up twenty points,and the temperature of the surrounding country for at least a hundredmiles was modified amazingly.
“Pretty soon the ice began to melt and run, and this continued as longas 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 pouringdown its bed in a perfect flood, while the surrounding country was afoot deep in water. Then we tried to shut Lander off; but he hadstarted going, and he couldn’t seem to stop. Say! he kept on blowinguntil the water began to steam and get hot, and in his immediatevicinity it actually boiled. We had to capture the man and gag him inorder to prevent the whole of Rogers County from being cooked then andthere.”
“Gee!” said Bunk Lander. “That sounds me like a lie.”
“It is possible!” murmured Grant.
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