by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XIV.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
The following morning, not a little to his wonderment, Rod found hislegs were lame and his ankles a trifle stiff. Being a fellow of activetemperament and athletic mold, and having ridden the range and punchedcows, it vexed him to find his efforts at skating, having lasted lessthan two hours, should have done him up to such an extent.
“I must be getting soft,” he muttered, as, following a sponge bath, herubbed himself down and massaged the sore muscles of his legs. “I’llslump out of any sort of condition if I don’t look out.”
Gradually, as he moved around, the lameness passed away, although itdid not wholly disappear. At school he heard the boys talking icehockey and discussing the organization of a basketball team to furnishsport when, later, snowfalls should put an end to skating; and oncemore, with a sensation of resentment, he felt himself barred from theircircle, although as a student at the academy he should have been one ofthem. This led him openly to accept the friendly overtures of SpottyDavis, observing which, Ben Stone, who had remained faithful despitepublic sentiment, did not seem to be wholly pleased. Nevertheless,Stone made no comment.
Lander was not a student at the academy; he had never completed hiscourse in the grammar school, and he now spent his time loafing aroundthe village, being closely watched by the people who knew him of old;for no one trusted him.
With suppressed impatience, Grant waited the coming of another night.It fretted him to see the boys and girls skating on the lake duringnoontime intermission, yet he found a fascination in watching them, andhe noted that Barker and Eliot seemed to be the most graceful,accomplished and proficient of all the fellows. Not until he hadacquired much more skill would he be ready to make a public appearanceon skates.
Leaving his aunt clearing the table after supper, with the monkeywatching her from its perch on the back of a chair and the parrotgrumbling in its cage, Rod secured his skates and again turned hissteps toward Bear Cove. As he approached the cove he was surprised tohear voices and laughter, and, pausing to listen, he learned that Davisand Lander were there ahead of him.
They were sitting on the shore in the shadow of the pines, and theirvoices sounded strange, while their laughter was of a high-pitched,unnatural sort. They looked up with a start as he paused beside them,for the carpet of pine needles had muffled his footsteps.
“Who the dickens——” cried Spotty.
“Why, it’s Rod—our friend Rod, Spot,” said Lander. “’Lo, old chap.We’re waiting for you. How is the weather in Texas to-night?”
“’Tis Rod, ain’t it?” whooped Spotty familiarly. “Good old Rod, thecow-puncher and fabricator. Glad to see you, old man. Say, Bunk,where’s that flagon of joy juice?”
“Here ’tis,” said Lander, handing something over. “Great stuff for acold night; it’s good as an overcoat.”
“Have a nip, Rod,” invited Davis, holding it out as Grant sat down atthe edge of the ice.
“What is it?” asked Rodney.
“Some of old Gran’ser Lander’s bottled elixir of life. Gee! it doesstir up a feller’s blood and make him feel good and warm. Don’t beafraid of it; take a good pull.”
Davis thrust a gurgling bottle into Grant’s hand.
“Oh, I don’t believe I want any of that stuff,” laughed Rod. “I’m notcold.”
“Do you good, just the same,” declared Bunk. “You don’t know what we’reoffering you. It’s nothing but harmless cider. Go ahead and try it.”
Thus adjured, the boy from Texas removed the stopper and tipped thebottle to his lips. One small swallow was quite enough; he spat out thesecond mouthful.
“Cider!” he exclaimed. “It tastes like vinegar to me. You don’t mean tosay you like that stuff?”
“No vinegar about it,” said Lander, with a touch of indignation. “It’sjust plain hard cider, doctored and bottled by my old grandpop. I hadhard work sneaking it out under my coat. Perhaps you may not like thetaste of it at first, Rod, but you’ll get so you’ll like it if you keeptrying it.”
“It gives you that funny feeling, that funny feeling,” chanted Davis,ending with a silly laugh.
Disgusted with them, Rod forced the bottle into Spotty’s hands.
“My father is a temperance man,” he said. “He won’t have a drop ofbooze around the ranch, for he’s seen the bad effects of it. One of ourbest men got his skin full and was lost in a norther. When they foundhim he was pretty near gone, and he lost both hands from thatfreeze—made him a cripple for life.”
“Oh, that was different,” said Bunk. “He had been drinking the realstuff; this is only cider.”
Nevertheless, Grant, preparing to clamp on his skates, firmly refusedto touch the bottle again. Lander and Davis had another drink, and thenthey attached their own skates to their feet.
“I’m afraid,” Said Spotty, rising somewhat unsteadily, “that you’re arather tame old cowboy, Rod. I’m afraid that’s why the fellers don’ttake much stock in you. You duck at everything.”
“They’re welcome to take as little stock in me as they choose,” saidGrant, a trifle warmly. “I came out here to learn to skate, not toguzzle old cider.”
They followed him onto the ice, and Spotty, attempting to do some fancytricks, sprawled at full length, whereupon he sat up, whooping withlaughter.
“Hold on, Grant,” called Lander, as Rod started off. “We’re going togive you further instructions, you know. Don’t mind Spotty. That upperstory of his is so light he can’t keep his balance.”
“Never mind me,” returned Rodney; “I reckon I’ll get along all right.”
He was gratified to find he had lost none of the slight knack atskating acquired on the previous night, and this gave him so muchconfidence that he rapidly improved. At first his lame anklesprotested, but they soon ceased their rebellion, and a sense ofexhilaration came to him as he found himself swinging back and forthacross the cove with fairly long strokes and remarkable steadiness.Nevertheless, he was annoyed by his companions, who persisted infollowing him and getting in his way, offering suggestions and makingsilly remarks. To get away from them he skated out toward the open lake.
Suddenly round Pine Point flashed a light, followed by another andanother. Half a dozen boys, bearing torches, came upon Grant and hispersistent mates ere they could escape. Three of the torch bearers wereEliot, Barker and Rollins. Berlin flashed the light of his torch uponthem, and then, whirling to skate backwards as he went past, cried outto the others:
“Here’s a fine collection! The cow-puncher has found some company tosuit his taste.”
This produced a laugh, which appeared greatly to irritate Lander, whoshouted:
“Go on, you bunch of dubs! Nobody wants anything to do with you,anyhow.”
Spotty Davis broke into a series of derisive cat-calls and tauntingjeers, to which the torch bearers gave no heed. Some of the partyturned back at that point, but two or three continued on round thenorthern end of Bass Island.
“They make me sick!” snarled Lander. “I’m going to get at that fellerBarker some day, and when I do he’ll know something has happened tohim.”
In spite of himself, Grant could not wholly smother a feeling of regretover having been seen with those two chaps. Barker’s sneer had left asting, a fact which he would not have acknowledged had any oneintimated as much. Wishing to get away by himself, he improved an earlyopportunity to skate off, leaving Bunk and Spotty still telling eachother what they thought of certain fellows in Oakdale; and he paidlittle heed to his course until, of a sudden, he discovered the shoreof Bass Island not far away at his right.
“Jingoes!” he muttered, attempting to check his progress suddenly.“This must be the dangerous place they told me about. Those ‘breathingholes’ in the ice——”
In spite of his efforts, his momentum had carried him onward, andsuddenly both skate-irons cut through beneath him. There was aterrifying, cracking sound, and
in a twinkling he felt himself plungedinto the icy water. A cry was cut short on his lips as he went under.
Although he rose almost immediately to the surface and clutched at thethin edge of the ice, he could feel the current which swept round theisland pulling at his legs. The ice gave way, and he clutched again andagain, struggling to keep himself from being sucked beneath it.
“Help!” he cried.
A moving, flashing light gleamed across the glassy surface of the lake.It was followed by another and still another. The three torch bearers,who had circled round the island, were now speeding southward. Two ofthem seemed to be racing far over toward the western shore of the lake.Apparently the third had not joined in this contest, and he was muchnearer.
“Help!” called Rod once more.
The nearest skater heard the cry and swerved suddenly in Grant’sdirection.
“What’s the matter?” he shouted. “Where are you?”
“Here—here in the water. I’ve broken in.”
Grant’s teeth rattled together as he uttered these words, the icy chillof the lake seeming to benumb him through and through. Nevertheless, hefancied he had recognized the voice of the approaching fellow as thatof Hunk Rollins, and a moment later the waving torch, lighting the faceof its bearer, showed beyond question that it was Rollins.
At a safe distance Hunk came to a full stop. “Who is it?” he calledagain.
“It’s I—Grant. Can’t seem to lift myself out. I can barely hang on.”
“Jerusalem!” gasped Hunk. “I don’t dare to get near you. It’s dangerousthere.” Then he whirled swiftly and went skating away as fast as hecould, yelling at the top of his voice: “Hi! hi! fellers! Come back!Grant’s broke in!”
To the dismay of the boy in the water, the racing torch bearers did notseem to hear Rollins, who continued to pursue them, repeating hiscalls. Farther and farther away they went, the sound of their skatesringing over the surface of the lake.
“By the time he overtakes them I’ll be done for,” thought theunfortunate lad; and even as this passed through his mind the ice brokeagain, compelling him to make another struggle to fling his arms outupon it. In that terrible moment it seemed that Rollins haddeliberately deserted him—had even been willing to leave him there toperish.
“I must get out alone. I must get out somehow,” he mumbled huskily. “Ifit wasn’t for the current I might——”
Again the ringing sound of skates reached his ears, and hope flared upstrong as that sound became more and more distinct. It came from thedirection of Bass Cove, and, approaching across the ice, he discoveredtwo figures, one in advance of the other.
“Hi, there! Hi, Grant! Is that you? Where are you? What’s the matter?”
It was the voice of Lander.
“Here! here!” answered Rod, as loudly as he could. “I’ve broken in.Can’t you help me?”
“Look out, Bunk,” warned Spotty, who was behind. “It’s dangerous there.”
One of Lander’s skates raked along the ice as he set it sidewise tocheck his speed.
“I see him!” he cried. “There he is, Spot! Hang on, Grant, old feller;we’ll get you out somehow. Hang on a little longer.”
Away he went toward the nearby island, while Davis, getting down on allfours, crawled cautiously toward Rodney. From the shore of the islandcame a cracking sound, like some one thrashing amid the underbrush andsaplings which grew upon it.
“We told ye,” said Spotty—“we told ye to keep away from here. Gee!you’re in a bad fix. If we had a rope or something, we might haul youout.”
“You’ll have to get busy pretty soon,” returned Grant. “The way thiscurrent pulls is something fierce.”
Out from the shore of the island flashed Lander, bearing a long pole inhis hands. Making a half circle, he passed Spotty, who uttered somecautioning words, slowing down as he drew near Grant.
“Come on, Spot,” he urged. “The ice seems to be solid here. We’ve gotto pull him out of that. Here, Rod, old man, get hold of the end ofthis pole if you can—get hold and hang on for your life.”
Grant grasped the end of the pole with both hands, having lifted theupper part of his body onto the edge of the ice, which buckled andpermitted the water to flow up around him, although it did not break.Urged by Lander, Davis ventured nearer and added his strength inpulling. Together they dragged the weakened and nearly exhausted ladout onto the solid ice.
“Come,” said Bunk, seizing the water-soaked chap and lifting him,“stand on your pins if you can. We’ve got to hustle you under coverbefore you freeze stiff. Just stand up, and we’ll push you along.”
Down the lake they swept with him, meeting Rollins, Barker and severalothers, who, still bearing torches, were returning.
“Oh, you’ve pulled him out, have you?” cried Hunk.
TOGETHER THEY DRAGGED THE WEAKENED AND NEARLY EXHAUSTEDLAD OUT ONTO THE SOLID ICE. —Page 148.]
“No thanks to you,” flung back Lander. “We heard him hollering to you.Why didn’t you stop and help? He’d ’a’ drownded for all of you.”
“I went after the other fellers,” said Hunk.
“And if you’d had any sense at all,” sneered Lander, “you’d known he’d’a’ gone down before you could bring them. You didn’t have nerve enoughto give him a hand, that’s all. Here’s your friend Barker with Mr.Rollins, Grant.”
“So I observe,” said Rod. “He’s found some company to suit his taste.”
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