Part 4

At two o’clock the big sleigh came to the door to take those who wished to ride down to the river where the annual ice carnival was to be held. A few of the older boys went on snowshoes, and Kid started off alone with his sled, but the others piled into the sleigh, which had a seat running lengthwise at each side. Everyone went, even the Doctor and Mrs. Merton; and Nan, of course. The river was frozen a good five inches and save where, here and there near shore, a snow-field hid the surface, was in the best of shape for the races. A fire was started on the bank and the Doctor and Mrs. Merton made themselves comfortable with robes from the sleigh. Everyone else, including Mr. Crane and Mr. Folsom, who had the affair in charge, donned skates and took to the surface. Most of the day students were on hand, and by half past two practically all of Mt. Pleasant Academy was there, one of the few absentees being Kid. But Kid arrived in time to see the finish of the two-hundred-yard dash, panting and puffing and pulling his beloved sled behind him.

Spooner, one of the day boys, a short, round-faced chap who looked like anything but a fast skater, won the first event. Spooner, in spite of his appearance, was a wonder on skates, and by reason of that ability had won the captaincy of the Day Hockey team. Other races followed; a quarter-mile event for seniors and upper middlers, a race of the same distance for lower middlers and juniors, a half-mile handicap and finally a rescue race of a quarter of a mile. Ben Holden distanced the entire field of five in the senior quarter-mile event, Cupples captured the next, with Lanny a close second, and the half-mile handicap, which started with sixteen entries, went to a day student, while Sam Perkins fought every foot of the distance and managed to finish only some six yards behind. There were prizes for first and second places, in each case a small pewter mug with the date and event engraved on it and a place for the winner’s name. Those mugs were highly prized and some of the seniors, during their three years at Mt. Pleasant, had managed to make a very creditable collection of them. Mr. Crane was kept pretty busy hustling the events off, while Mr. Folsom, looking as serious as ever, timed each event. As not even a school record was broken that day the time need not interest us.

Bert had entered in the handicap, but had finished a poor sixth, much to his chagrin since, although he was no hockey player, he rather prided himself on his skating. But the distance was too short for Bert to show up at his best, and when, after the rescue race was over, the two-mile handicap was announced Bert gave his name to Mr. Crane.

Before this, however, the rescue race had occasioned not a little excitement and a great deal of mirth. A quarter of a mile up the river from the starting place four small juniors, Kid, Small and two day students waited each with his ankles bound together with a skate strap. They wore no skates. At the word from Mr. Crane, Pierce, Waters, Lovell and a day student named Tucker dashed off up the ice. The first to arrive at the end of the course was at liberty to pick his boy, and, as Kid was several pounds lighter than any of the other three, the contestants all wanted Kid. Waters got him, beating the others by a few yards. Then the task was to return to the starting place with the rescued boy. They could carry him, pull him or push him; the only thing was to get him back. But the mode generally adopted was to get the rescued boy in front, seize him by the elbows and push him, the burden slanting his body back and sliding along on his heels. Of course, the rescued boy was required to aid to the extent of keeping his body stiff and his feet straight ahead. But it wasn’t so easy. Now and then one or other would double up, or his feet would swing aside, or his rescuer would lose his hold. In either case the result was usually a spill, with the rescuer and rescued ludicrously mixed up on the ice. Kid, in spite of his light weight, proved a troublesome burden, for he seemed unable to keep his feet straight for the goal and was forever swinging to one side or the other, occasioning Waters much trouble, two upsets and a loss of temper. Waters insisted afterwards that Kid did it on purpose. As for the justice of that charge I decline to give an opinion. Kid was Kid, and a law unto himself!

In the end Steve Lovell won with Small, who behaved beautifully all the way, and Pierce was second, Waters finishing a very bad fourth. During that race the upsets were not confined to the competitors, for most of the spectators skated along the edge of the course, applauding and encouraging and laughing, and more than one, unable to laugh and skate too, abandoned skating and decided to view the finish from a recumbent position.

There were only three entries for the final event, the two-mile handicap, Ben Holden, Stanley Pierce and Bert. Holden was placed at scratch, Pierce was given eighty yards and Bert two hundred, more, as subsequent events proved, than his ability entitled him to. The course was up the river for a mile to the upper end of Candle Island, a low sand-bar near the shore, around the island and back to the starting line. This was approximately a mile and the distance was to be skated twice.

Lanny and Nan skated up the river with Bert and Mr. Crane to Bert’s starting mark. Then Mr. Crane returned to post Pierce and give the word.

“Oh, I do hope you’ll win, Bert!” said Nan.

“So do I,” agreed Lanny, “if only to beat Ben. You’d better let him make the pace for you as soon as he catches up with you.”

“Don’t let him catch up,” said Nan. “Skate just as hard and fast as ever you can, Bert! And please be careful at the island. You know Mr. Crane said you must keep above the snag because the ice is weak there.”

“He’s a regular old woman about thin ice,” said Lanny.

“But it’s so, Lanny, and I know it. The ice is always weak at the end of Candle Island. The――the current or something does it. So you must keep beyond the snag, Bert.”

“What sort of a thing is this snag?” asked Bert, taking a tighter hitch in his belt and keeping his eye down river for the signal.

“Why, it’s an old dead tree that sticks up through the ice about――about twenty yards beyond the further end of the island,” explained Nan. “And you must――”

“Get set,” interrupted Lanny. “He’s going to start you.”

Then down the river Mr. Crane dropped the hand holding his cap and Bert’s skates bit into the ice and he was off. A two mile race, whether on foot or on skates, is a thing of endurance and soon Bert slowed down to an even, swinging pace that took him along quite fast enough. Ben started out with the idea of catching Pierce and he did it in the first quarter of a mile, while back at the starting line the watchers cheered lustily. Ben wasn’t bothering about Bert. He would let Pierce make the pace as long as he would and then pass him. He believed that a mile would see the junior out of the race. Bert reached the farther end of Candle Island quite alone, swung around the snag which poked itself through the ice like a gaunt brown arm, and swung homeward. As he passed the middle of the sand-bar he saw Pierce and Holden, only three yards apart, on the other side. Pierce was looking flurried already, Bert thought. So far Bert had maintained his lead, and he meant to do his very best to keep it. But on the return journey Ben awoke to the fact that Pierce was slowing up and that the third competitor had a very dangerous lead. So he left Pierce behind soon after the lower end of the island was passed and increased his speed. By the time the starting place was reached, where a barrel set on end did duty as a turning mark, Bert’s lead had been cut down to a scant hundred yards and Ben was still gaining. The spectators cheered and waved as the two boys made the turn and began the second lap, and Bert heard Lanny’s voice high above all others:

“All for one and one for all!” shouted Lanny. Nan, a blur of red and white, waved wildly. Half way to the island again Bert heard Ben’s skates ringing on the ice close behind. For nearly a quarter of a mile the two boys skated twenty yards apart, although from the start it was difficult to guess the distance that divided them. Then Ben spurted, as the lower end of the island was reached, and Bert let him by without a challenge. Meanwhile Pierce was out of it and was sitting by the fire nursing a painful attack of cramps.

Around the head of the island the two skaters went, Bert right on Ben’s heels. Ben had obeyed Mr. Crane’s injunction before, but now, hoping perhaps to steal a few yards on Bert, he swung around close to the end of the sand-bar, well inside the snag. After a moment of hesitation, which lost him several yards of distance, Bert followed.

“If that ice will hold him it will hold me,” thought Bert.

Near shore the ice was worn by the action of the current as it swept against the bar and open water showed in places. But Ben’s course seemed to bear him safely away from the weak places, although still some distance inside the dead tree. Bert followed in his tracks some six yards behind. Then, suddenly, there was a cracking sound, an exclamation from Ben and that youth wheeled half around and went through the ice. Bert strove to stop, wheeling to the right, felt the ice giving beneath him and threw himself face down and went sliding toward the snag and safety. Then he was on his knees, rather dizzy and frightened, peering anxiously back for Ben. Ben, clinging to the edge of the ice, was keeping himself afloat.

“Got anything you can throw me?” he asked Bert coolly. “I can keep afloat here for a week but the ice won’t hold, I guess.”

Bert pulled off his sweater, unstrapped his belt with shaking fingers and knotted the latter to a sleeve of the sweater. Then he wriggled forward at full length.

“Be careful,” cautioned Ben, his teeth chattering.

“I will,” answered Bert. “I’m lighter than you, Ben. I think I can get pretty nearly out there.”

And he finally did, and then strove to throw the sweater where Ben could reach it. But the thing seemed possessed of the imp of perversity. Time and again Bert’s attempts put the sweater just outside Ben’s reach, and once the latter, struggling to get hold of it, lost his clutch on the edge of the ice and almost sank again. But finally his fingers caught the edge of the woolen garment. Then, getting a firm grip of it, he began to break the weak ice with his fist, while Bert, wriggling away, took up the slack by inches. At last hard ice was reached and then, taking the sweater between his teeth, Ben attempted to lift his body out of the water. It was hard work, and time and again when success was almost attained he went back. But finally, kicking and thrashing and struggling, with Bert pulling as hard as the slippery surface of the ice would allow, Ben got out, dripping and chilled. He wriggled over to where Bert lay, not daring yet to trust himself on his feet and scarcely in condition to stand up, for that matter, and sat panting and shaking.

“B-b-better put your sweater on again,” he chattered.

“Not me,” said Bert. “You put it on, and hurry up with it. If you don’t you’ll have a chill.”

“I g-g-guess I’ve got one now,” answered Ben. “That w-w-wat-er was f-f-fierce!”

“Can’t you stand up?” asked Bert.

“Yes.” But it wasn’t easy and Ben had to cling to Bert in doing so. Then Bert got his sweater over Ben’s, which was wringing wet, Ben protesting all the while and weakly striving to resist.

“I d-d-don’t need it,” he chattered. “You’ll c-c-catch cold, Bryant.”

“I won’t, but you will,” replied Bert, rescuing his belt and putting it on again. “Now come on. Can you skate?”

“No, I――I’d rather sit down a minute, I g-g-guess.”

“You can’t! You mustn’t! Come on, Ben, and get warm. Skate as hard as you can. We’ll race back.”

Ben made a feeble effort, swayed, clung to Bert and shook his head.

“All right, then,” said Bert. “We’ll make this a rescue race and I’ll slide you back.” He laughed and Ben tried to smile.

“N-n-no, wait a m-m-minute,” said Ben. “I’ll b-b-be all right. It’s m-m-my legs, Bryant; they’re like ice.”

“Stamp around, Ben! Stretch them. That’s it. Better? Now see if you can’t skate.”

Ben tried and succeeded in getting started. Very slowly they made the turn around the end of the island and started back. But every movement helped and soon Ben’s blood was stirring again in his chilled body and the color began to creep back into his cheeks.

“That was a fool thing to do,” he said. “But I thought the ice was thick enough to hold anyone. Gee, if you hadn’t been there I’d――I’d been frozen by this time! I could keep afloat all right, but the water was awful!”

“Skate faster,” said Bert, “and don’t talk.”

By the time the starting line was in sight Ben was making good time and to the spectators it looked as though they were to see a wonderfully close finish, for the two boys were side by side. There had been some uneasiness because of the delay and the watchers breathed sighs of relief when the two skaters came into sight again. Caps waved and voices urged them on.

“Come on, Ben! Hit it up! You aren’t half skating!”

“Beat him, Bert! Beat him! Skate! Skate!”

Kid danced about and turned circles on his skates, all the time yelling shrilly, and Nan, her pink cheeks rosier than ever from excitement, clapped her hands and “rooted” for Bert. Down to the line came the two skaters, skating fast but evidently quite tuckered out and showing a lot of effort. The spectators skated to meet them, and then it was that Ben’s wet clothes were noted and questions fell fast. Bert had no thought of the race. He wanted to see Ben wrapped up warmly and started on his way back to school. And he wanted to get there himself, for he felt decidedly weak and sick, and every few moments a shiver went over him. And so he never noticed when Ben slowed down almost at the line and never noticed that he himself had skated across it and had won the race until Lanny smote him on the back, almost sending him on his face, and shouted:

“You won, Bert! He didn’t cross! He didn’t finish!”

But Bert paid no heed. He shouldered his way to Mr. Crane who was stretching out his hand in congratulation.

“Ben went through the ice, sir,” he said, “and he ought to be taken home right away. And I guess――I guess you’d better take me, too.”

Whereupon Bert sank against Mr. Crane and fainted dead away.

VII

LANNY CONFESSES

Bert lay in bed with the remains of a satisfactory if simple repast on a tray at his side. He was feeling a little languid, but aside from that quite his usual self. The Doctor had diagnosed his case as nervous exhaustion following excitement, overexertion and a chill, and had mixed him a dark brown, nasty tasting concoction in a tumbler and sentenced him to bed for the rest of the day. Ben had been dosed thoroughly, but had not been put to bed, and so had gone down to his supper like any ordinary person.

Bert could hear the fellows pushing the chairs away from the tables in the dining-room below, and a moment after there was a knock at the door and Lanny, Small and Kid came in. Kid pounced on the foot of the bed with a whoop of glee and was sternly reprimanded by Lanny.

“Don’t you know how to behave when a fellow’s sick, Kid?” Lanny demanded. “Get off there and sit in a chair.” Kid grinned unabashed and took the Morris chair. “I sneaked an apple for you, Bert; want it?” continued Lanny.

“You bet!” Bert hid it under his pillow for future reference.

“How are you feeling now?” asked Small.

“Fine and dandy,” said Bert.

“You’re going to get the mug for winning the race,” piped Kid jubilantly. “Mr. Crane asked Ben if he wanted to protest the race and Ben said no, he didn’t, and Mr. Crane said then he’d give you the mug and Ben said he hoped he would.”

“The Doctor said your behavior was a credit to the school,” said Lanny, with a grin. “You’d have thought to hear him that he’d told you just what to do.”

“Small says he thinks Ben meant you to win the race,” said Kid. “He says Ben didn’t finish on purpose. I guess he forgot about it.”

“No, he didn’t,” Lanny defended. “I saw him. He just meant that Bert was to cross and be the winner. You can say what you like about Ben, but he――he’s fair and square!”

“Treason! Treason!” exclaimed Kid, kicking his feet up. “Lanny’s deserted to the enemy!”

“No, I haven’t,” responded Lanny, “but――but I’ve got to tell you something.” He paused and glanced a bit shamefacedly at the others. “When――I came up to the room after we got back Waters said, ‘Lanny, I wish you’d pull these boots off,’ and I――I didn’t think anything about it――really I didn’t!――and so I――I pulled them off!” He ended a trifle defiantly. There was silence. Bert nodded thoughtfully, Small looked a little embarrassed and Kid began to whistle softly through his teeth. At last,

“I――I shacked, too,” muttered Small. “George Waters――”

“Me too!” piped Kid. “I wanted to. I’m tired of not having anything to do and having the fellows pretend not to see me and――and all that!” And Kid’s countenance dared them to do their worst!

“I feel that way too,” said Lanny. “After all, I guess it doesn’t do us youngsters any harm to――to wait on the older fellows a bit, Bert. Maybe it――it’s good whatdoyoucallit――discipline.”

“Yes, and when we are upper grade fellows somebody will have to do it for us,” added Kid blithely.

“I think you’re right,” said Bert. “You see, it makes a difference whether you like a fellow or not whether you want to do things for him, you know. I――I didn’t like some of the big fellows at first. I do now. I like them all. I――I guess shacking isn’t going to hurt us, fellows.”

“Besides,” began Small, “we showed them that we――”

There was a knock at the door, Bert cried “Come!” and Nan put her head in.

“Mamma said I might come up and see how you are, Bert,” she announced. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” said Bert. “Kid, give Nan that chair.”

Kid obeyed with a flourish. Nan seemed just a wee bit disappointed at finding Bert was not going to be an interesting invalid for a few days. After his condition had been discussed and it was quite apparent that he would be up and about the next morning, Nan exclaimed; “Just think! We’re all here, the Junior Four. We might have a meeting, Lanny!”

Lanny grinned sheepishly. “I guess there won’t be any more meetings, Nan. It’s all off!” Whereupon they explained to her and Nan was quite cast down.

“Just when we had such a beautiful society!” she grieved.

“Well, we don’t have to bust up the Junior Four,” said Kid. “Let’s keep it going.”

“What’s the use?” asked Small.

“Lovely!” cried Nan, clapping her hands. “We’ll just find a new――new purpose!”

“What?” asked Small.

“Why, let me see.” Nan frowned thoughtfully for a moment. Then, “I know!” she exclaimed. “Good fellowship!”

“Good fellowship!” echoed Bert.

“Good fellowship!” cried Lanny.

“Here’s to the Junior Four!” shouted Kid. “Long may it wave!” He seized a half-empty tumbler from Bert’s tray and flourished it. “One for all and all for one!”

The next evening Bert and Ben sat on opposite sides of the study table in Number 5. Ben, raising his eyes from his book, glanced across at his roommate.

“Bert,” he said casually, “I wish you’d find my Latin dictionary for me.”

Bert laid his pencil on the volume before him and pushed back his chair. “All right,” he said cheerfully. The dictionary was on the mantel and he crossed the room and got it, laying it at Ben’s elbow. “There you are, Ben.”

“Thanks.” Ben raised his head again and smiled up at the other. “How is it going?” he asked.

“Hard,” replied Bert, casting a rueful glance at his book.

“Well, I’ll be through here in about ten minutes and then I’ll help you with it.”

VIII

THE FIRST HOCKEY GAME

On the following Saturday afternoon House and Day met in the first game of the series to settle the school hockey supremacy. The Day Team was credited with being better than the House. Last winter it had won two straight games without much trouble and borne off the pewter mug which Mr. Crane and Mr. Folsom had donated as a trophy two years before. The mug was to go finally to the team winning two out of three series, and so far both Day Team and House Team had one win to its credit and the present series would settle the ownership of the trophy.

There were three star performers on the Day Team: White, who played center; Grimshaw, who played cover-point, and Morgan, who was the goal-tend. Billy Spooner, the captain, was an excellent skater, but was not a very certain performer with the stick. The rest of the Day Team were only fair players. For the House, Ben Holden was the star performer. Ben played center and was truly an adept with the hockey stick. Dick Gardner, at goal, was another brilliant player, and Pierce, rover, and Lovell, point, were capable of good work. Cupples, at right wing, was rather weak, and the same may be said of Waters, on the other end of the line, and of Perkins at cover-point.

On the whole, the day pupils had rather the better of it as regards material, and if they failed to carry off the coveted trophy it would be largely because of lack of practice. They had as much right to use the school rinks as the house students, and Spooner tried his level best to get his team to remain after school and practice. But it was hard work. Every day one or more of the day pupils deserted for some reason or other, leaving the team short. Sometimes Spooner conducted practice with only four players out of seven!

It was right there that Ben and his House Team had the advantage. His fellows didn’t have to run home after lessons were over and he almost always had enough players at hand to make a full team. Crandall, who was a poor skater but a hard worker, was usually on hand as a substitute, while Lanny looked on enviously from the side of the rink and almost daily petitioned Ben to let him play.

Mr. Folsom and Mr. Crane acted respectively as referee and timekeeper. The audience consisted of a handful of boys from the village, several of them day students, the four juniors and Nan. Kid, first indicating Small and then himself, declared that the gathering was “small, but select.” Lanny, dressed for play, but at the moment impersonating a spectator, deftly introduced some particles of ice down Kid’s neck and warned him against punning. During the subsequent confusion Mr. Folsom tossed the puck onto the ice and blew his whistle and the game began.

“Which side do you want to win?” asked Nan of Bert.

“Our side, of course.”

“Yes, I suppose you do,” she sighed. “But I’m in a very difficult position because, you see, both teams are made up of Mt. Pleasant boys, and I ought to be――be strictly impartial.”

“I don’t see how you can be,” replied Bert, leaning over the boards to watch Waters try a shot at goal. “Besides, I don’t see what difference it makes.”

Waters made a miserable shot and the puck skimmed over the barrier and into the snow, and Small dug it out with a spare hockey stick.

“It’s the principle of it, I think,” responded Nan. “In some ways I’d like our side――I mean House to win, but it wouldn’t be quite fair to the Day boys, would it?”

“Wouldn’t it?” Nan’s ethics was too deep for Bert, and he was glad that Ben shot a neat goal at that moment so that he could abandon the subject. “Fine, Ben!” he shouted. “That’s the stuff!” He clapped Lanny on the back and was in turn pummelled by the enthusiastic Kid, who yelled, “Hooray for the House! Kill them, Ben!” at the top of his lungs. Nan maintained a discreet silence, her only evidence of emotion being the raising and lowering of herself on her toes. As it was a very cold afternoon, however, she may have done it only to keep her feet warm.