Therefore, Wingate's Pond was not used as much as the river for skating;

but this winter the ice was as smooth and solid as if it had been frozen
artificially, so the High School boys and girls could not resist the
temptation to skim over its surface.

"Isn't it a fine sight?" asked Grace, as they came in view of the skaters
who were circling and gliding over the pond, some by twos and threes,
others in long rows, laughing and shouting.

A big fire burned on the bank, rows of new-comers sat near it, fitting on
their skates.

"Away with dull care!" cried Hippy, as he circled gracefully over the ice;
for, with all his weight, Hippy was considered one of the best skaters in
Oakdale.

"Away with everything but fun," finished Grace who could think of nothing
save the joy of skating. "Come along, Anne. Don't be afraid. David and I
will keep you up until you learn to use those tiny little feet of yours."

Anne's small feet went almost higher than her head while Grace was
speaking, and she sat flat down on the ice.

"No harm done," she laughed, "only I didn't know it could possibly be so
slippery."

They pulled her up, David and Grace, and put her between them with Tom
Gray on the other side of Grace as additional support, and off they flew,
while Anne, keeping her feet together and holding on tightly, sailed along
like a small ice boat.

"This will give you confidence," explained David, "and later on you can
learn how to use your feet."

But Anne hardly heard him, so thrilled was she by the glorious sensation.
As they flew by, followed by Hippy and Nora, with Reddy and Jessica, she
caught glimpses of many people looking strangely unfamiliar on skates.
Miriam passed, gliding gracefully over the ice with a troop of sophomores
at her heels. There were many High School boys "cracking the whip" in long
rows of eight or more, while there were some older people comfortably
seated in sleigh chairs which were pushed from behind, generally by some
poor boys in Oakdale, who stood on the bank waiting to be hired.

"Now, we'll have a lesson," exclaimed David when they had reached the
starting point again, while the others lost themselves in the crowd. Anne
was a good pupil, but she was soon tired and sat down on a bench near the
bank.

"Do go and have a good skate yourself, David," she insisted. "I'll rest
for awhile and look on."

But it was far too cold to sit still.

"I'll give myself a lesson," she said. "This is a quiet spot. All the
others seem to have skated up to the other end."

As she was carefully taking the strokes David had taught her, with an
occasional struggle to keep her balance, she heard a great shouting behind
her. The next instant, some one had seized her by the hand.

"Keep your feet together!" was shouted in her ear, and she found herself
going like the wind at the end of a long line of girls. They were juniors,
she saw at once, and it was Julia Crosby at the whip end who had seized
her by the hand.

Anne closed her eyes. They were going at a tremendous rate of speed, it
seemed to her, like a comet shooting through the air. Then, suddenly, the
head of the comet stood still and the tail swung around it, and Anne, who
represented the very tip of the tail and who hardly reached to Julia
Crosby's shoulder, felt herself carried along with such velocity that the
breath left her body, her knees gave way and she fell down in a limp
little bundle. Julia Crosby instantly let go her hand and the impetus of
the rush shot her like a catapult far over the ice into the midst of a
crowd of skaters.

But the juniors never stopped to see what damage had been done. They
quickly joined hands again, and were off on another expedition almost
before Anne had been picked up by David and Hippy.

"It's that Julia Crosby again," cried David. "I wish she would move to
Europe. I'd gladly buy her a ticket. The town of Oakdale isn't big enough
to hold her and other people. She's always trying to knock somebody off
the side of the earth."

Anne went home, tired and bruised. She had had enough of skating for one
morning David returned to join the others; for this was not the last of
the day's adventures and Julia Crosby, before sunset, was to repent of her
cruelty to Anne.

In the meantime Grace and Tom had skated up to the far end of the pond.

"Well, Grace," said Tom, "how has the world been using you? I suppose you
have been adding to your laurels as a basketball captain."

"Far from it," said Grace a trifle sadly. "Miriam Nesbit is star player at
present."

They skated on for some time in silence. Tom felt there was something
wrong, so he tactfully changed the subject.

"Who is the girl doing the fancy strokes?" he asked, pointing to Julia
Crosby, who, some distance ahead of them, was giving an exhibition of her
powers as a maker of figure eights and cross-cuts.

"That's the junior captain," answered Grace. "I hope she won't fall,
because she's heavy enough to go right through the ice if she should have
a hard tumble."

"Suppose we stop watching her," suggested Tom. "I don't want to see her
take a header, and people who show off on skates always do so, sooner or
later."

They changed their course toward the middle of the pond, while Julia, who
was turning and circling nearer the shore, watched them from one corner of
her eye.

Suddenly Grace stopped.

"Julia! Julia!" she cried. "Miss Crosby!"

"What's the matter?" demanded Tom.

"Don't you see the danger flag over there? She will skate into a hole if
she keeps on. The ice houses are near here, and I suppose it is where they
have been cutting ice."

"Hello-o!" cried Tom, straining his lungs to reach the skater, who looked
back, gave her usual tantalizing laugh and skated on.

"You are getting onto thin ice," screamed Grace in despair, beckoning
wildly. "Stop! Stop!"

Julia Crosby was skating backwards now, facing the others.

"Catch me if you can," she called, and the wind carried her words to them
as they flew after her.

Then Grace, who had been anxiously watching the skater and not the ice,
stumbled on a piece of frozen wood and fell headlong. She lay still for an
instant, half stunned by the blow, but even in that distressful moment she
could hear the other girl's derisive laughter.

Tom called again:

"You'll be drowned, if you don't look where you are going."

"Why don't you learn to skate?" was Julia's answer.

"O Tom," exclaimed Grace. "Leave me. I'll soon get my breath. Do go and
stop that girl. The pond's awfully deep there."

"Miss Crosby," Tom Gray called, "won't you wait a minute? I have something
to tell you."

"Catch me first!" she cried.

She turned and began skating for dear life, bending from the waist and
going like the wind.

"I think I'll try and catch her from the front," he said to himself. "I
don't propose to tumble in, too, and leave poor Grace to fish, us both
out."

With arms swinging freely, he made for the center of the pond. As he
whizzed past the girl, he turned with a wide sweep and came toward her,
pointing at the same time to the white flag. But it was too late. In her
effort to outstrip him, Julia slid heavily into the danger zone.

There was a crash and a splash, then down she went into the icy water,
followed by Tom, who had seized her arm in a fruitless effort to save her.

For an instant Tom was paralyzed with the coldness of the water. Still,
keeping a firm grip on the arm of the girl who had been responsible for
his ice bath, he managed to clutch the ledge of ice made by their fall
with his free hand.

"Take hold of the ice and try to help yourself a little," commanded Tom.

Julia made a half-hearted attempt, and managed to grasp the ledge, but her
hold was so feeble that Tom dared not withdraw his support He was
powerless to act, and they would both drown unless help came quickly.




CHAPTER XIV

A BRAVE RESCUE


Grace was still where she had fallen, cooling a large, red lump on her
forehead by applying her handkerchief first to the ice and then to the
swollen place, when she suddenly felt herself to be entirely alone in the
world.

"Everybody has gone home to dinner!" she exclaimed, as she glanced over
her shoulder at the other end of the pond, now denuded of skaters.

Then she shifted her position, looking for Tom and Julia. She had never
dreamed, when she saw her friend go whizzing across the ice, that he had
not caught the reckless girl in time to warn her of her danger.

In a flash she saw the empty expanse of ice before her. She leaped to her
feet, balancing herself with difficulty, for her head was still dizzy from
the blow.

"Tom! Tom Gray!" she called. "Where are you?"

"Run for help!" came the answer. In another moment she saw them clinging
to a broken ledge of ice, Tom supporting Julia Crosby.

As for the junior captain, she was weeping bitterly, and making no attempt
to help herself.

Grace anxiously scanned the expanse of the ice. It was nearly a mile to
the other end of the pond, and the last group of skaters had disappeared
over the brow of the hill.

"You must think quickly," she said to herself.

Her eyes took in the other shore. Not a soul was there, not a dwelling of
any sort; nothing but the great ice house that stood like a lonely
sentinel on the bank. Yet something seemed to tell her that help lay in
that direction.

Once before, in a moment of danger, Grace had obeyed this same impulse and
had never regretted it. Once again she was following the instinct that
might have seemed to another person anything but wise.

Skating as she had never skated before, Grace Harlowe reached the shore in
a moment. Here, dropping to the bank, she quickly removed her skates, then
ran toward the ice house, feeling strangely unaccustomed to walking on the
ground after her long morning on skates.

"What if I am off on a wild-goose chase?" she said to herself. "Suppose
there is no one there?" She paused for an instant and then ran on faster
than before.

"I shall find help over there, I know I shall," she thought as she
hurried over the frozen ground and made straight for the ice house. There
was no time to be lost. Tom and Julia were liable to be sucked under and
drowned while she was looking for help.

Grace pushed resolutely on. In the meantime hardly four minutes had really
elapsed since the skaters had tumbled into the water.

On the other side of the ice house she came abruptly upon a man engaged in
loading a child's wagon with chips of wood.

"Help!" cried Grace. "Help! Some people have broken through the ice. Have
you a rope?"

The man made no answer whatever. He did not even look up until Grace shook
him by the shoulder.

"There is no time to lose," she cried. "They may drown at any moment.
Come! Come quickly, and help me save them."

The man looked at her with a strange, far-away expression in his eyes.

"Don't you hear me?" cried Grace in an agony of impatience. "Are you
deaf?"

He shook his head stupidly, touching his ears and mouth.

"Deaf and dumb!" she exclaimed in despair.

Holding up two fingers, Grace pointed toward the water. Then she made a
swimming motion. Perhaps he had understood. She could not tell, but her
quick eye had caught sight of a long, thin plank on the shore.

Pulling off one of her mittens, she showed him a little pearl and
turquoise ring her mother had given her for a birthday present, indicating
that she would give it to him if he would help her. Then she seized one
end of the plank and made a sign for him to take the other; but the
stubborn creature began to unload the chips from the wagon.

Grace ran blindly ahead, dragging the plank alone.

"He's feeble-minded," she quivered. "I suppose I shall have to work this
thing by myself."

When she had reached the bank, Grace heard him trotting behind her with
his little wagon. In another moment there was a tug at the board. She
turned and shook her fist angrily at him; but, without regarding her in
the least, he lifted the plank and rested it on the wagon. Then motioning
her to hold up the back end, he started on a run down the bank.

"The poor soul thinks he's a horse, I suppose" she said to herself, "but
what difference does it make, if we can only get the plank to Tom and
Julia?"

Grace soon saw, however, that the idea was not entirely idiotic. Later she
was to offer up a prayer of thanks for that same child's wagon. The deaf
and dumb man was wearing heavy Arctic rubbers, which kept him from
slipping; while Grace, whose soles were as smooth as glass, kept her
balance admirably by means of the other end of the plank.

Tom and Julia Crosby had now been nearly ten minutes in the water. Twice
the ice had broken under Tom's grasp, while Julia, who seemed unable to
help herself, had thrown all her weight on the poor boy, while she called
wildly for help and heaped Grace with reproaches for running away.

"If it were not for the fact that it would be the act of a coward,"
exclaimed Tom at last, his teeth chattering with cold, "I would let go of
your arm and give up the job of supporting you in this ice water for
talking about Grace like that. Of course she has gone for help. Haven't
you found out long ago that she is the right sort?"

"Well, why did she go in the wrong direction?" sobbed Julia. "Everybody is
over on the other bank. There is nothing but an ice house over here."

"You may trust to her to have had some good, sensible reason," retorted
Tom loyally.

"I don't think I can keep up much longer," exclaimed Julia, beginning to
cry again.

"Keep on crying," replied Tom exasperated. "It will warm you--and remember
that I am doing the keeping up. I don't see that you are making any
special effort in that direction."

Once Tom had endeavored to lift Julia out of the hole, and he believed,
and always insisted, in telling the story afterwards, that if she had been
willing to help herself it could have been accomplished. But Julia Crosby,
triumphant leader of her class, and Julia Crosby cold and wet as a result
of her own recklessness, were two different beings altogether.

"Grace Harlowe has left us to drown," she sobbed. "I am so wretched. She
is a selfish girl."

"No such thing," replied Tom vigorously. "Here she comes now, bringing
help as I expected I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself." He gave a
sigh of relief when he saw Grace and the strange man approaching at a
quick trot, the wagon and plank between them. His confidence in Grace had
not been misplaced. He felt that they would soon be released from their
perilous predicament.

[Illustration: Grace and the Strange Man Quickly Approached.]

"All right," called Grace cheerfully as she approached. "Keep up a little
while longer. We'll have you both out in a jiffy."

Both rescuers slid the plank on the ice until one end projected over the
hole.

Then the man and Grace both lay flat down on the other end and Grace
called "ready."

Julia Crosby seized the board and pulled herself out of the water, safe,
now, from the breaking of thin ice at the edge.

"Now, Tom," cried Grace.

But Julia's considerable weight had already weakened the wood. When Tom
attempted to draw himself up, crack! went the board, and a jagged piece
broke off. This would not have been so serious if the ice had not given
way. Then, into the water, with many strange, guttural cries, slipped the
deaf and dumb man. Grace herself was wet through by the rush of water over
the ice, and just saved herself by slipping backward.

There was still a small portion of the plank left, and, with Julia
Crosby's help, Grace thought they might manage to pull the two men out.

But Julia looked hardly able to help herself. She sat shivering on the
bank trying to remove her skates.

"Julia," called Grace desperately. "You must help me now or these two men
will drown. Help me hold down this plank."

Aroused by Grace's appeal, Julia meekly obeyed, and, still shivering
violently, knelt beside Grace on the plank. But it was too short; when
Tom Gray seized one end of it he nearly upset both the girls into the
water.

"Oh, what shall we do?" cried Grace in despair when suddenly there came
the thought of the little wagon.

Quickly untwisting a long muffler of red silk from about her neck, Grace
tied it securely in the middle, around the cross piece of the tongue of
the stout little vehicle. Then she pushed it gently until it stood on the
edge of the hole. Giving one end of the muffler to Julia, Grace took the
other herself.

"Catch hold of the tail piece, Tom," she cried.

Fortunately the ice was very rough where the girls were standing, or they
would certainly have slipped and fallen. They pulled and tugged until
gradually the ice in front of them, with Tom's additional weight on it,
instead of breaking began to sink. But Tom Gray was out of the hole now;
helped by the wagon he slipped easily along the half-submerged ice, then
finally rolled over with a cry of relief upon the firm surface.

In the same way they pulled out the deaf and dumb man, who had certainly
been brave and patient during the ordeal, although he had uttered the most
fearful sounds.

As soon as his feet touched the solid ice, he seized his wagon and made
for the bank. Grace, remembering she had promised him her ring, hurried
after him, but she was chilled to the bone and could not run. By the time
she reached the bank he had rounded the corner of the ice house and was
out of sight.

"He evidently doesn't care to be thanked," said Tom Gray as Grace returned
to where he and Julia stood waiting.

"We had better get home as soon as possible or we'll all be laid up with
colds."

The three half-frozen young people made their way home as best they could.
Their clothes had frozen stiff, making it impossible for them to hurry.
Julia Crosby said not a word during the walk, but when she left them at
the corner where she turned into her own street, she said huskily: "Thank
you both for what you did for me to-day, I owe my life to you."

"That was a whole lot for her to say," said Grace.

"She ought to be grateful," growled Tom. "She was the cause of all this
mess," pointing to his wet clothes.

"I believe she will be," said Grace softly, "After all, 'It's an ill wind
that blows no one good.'"

Grace's mother was justly horrified when Grace, in her bedraggled
condition, walked into the living room. She insisted on putting her to
bed, wrapping her in blankets and giving her hot drinks. Grace fell into a
sound sleep from which she did not awaken until evening. Then she rose,
dressed and appeared at the supper table apparently none the worse for her
wetting.

Meanwhile Tom Gray had gone to his aunt's, given himself a brisk rubbing
down and changed his wet clothing for another suit he fortunately happened
to have with him. Thanks to his strong constitution and vigorous health,
he felt no bad effects.

He then went down to the kitchen, asked the cook for a cup of hot coffee,
and, after hastily swallowing it, rushed off to find David, Hippy and
Reddy and tell them the news. He was filled with admiration for Grace.

"She is the finest, most resolute girl I ever knew!" he exclaimed as he
finished his story.

"Hurrah for Grace Harlowe!" shouted Reddy.

"Let's go down to-night and see if she's all right?" suggested David.

Before seven o'clock the four boys were on their way to the Harlowe's.
They crept quietly up to the living-room window. Grace sat by the fire
reading. Very softly they began a popular song that was a favorite of
hers. Grace's quick ears caught the sound of the music. She was out of
the house like a flash, and five minutes later the four boys were seated
around the fire going over the day's adventure.

"The deaf and dumb man who helped you out is quite a character," said
Hippy. "I know him well. He used to work for my father. He isn't half so
foolish as he looks, either. As for that wagon you used as a life
preserver, I am proud to say that it was once mine."

"It must have been made especially strong," observed Reddy.

"It was. Hickory and iron were the materials used, I believe. I played
with it when but a toddling che-ild," continued Hippy, "and also smashed
three before my father had this one made to order. ''Twas ever thus from
childhood's earliest hour,'" he added mournfully. "I always had to have
things made to order."

There was a shout of laughter at Hippy's last remark. From infancy Hippy
had been the prize fat boy of Oakdale.

"It's only seven o'clock," said David. I move that we hunt up the girls
and have a party. That is, if Grace is willing."

"That will be fine," cried Grace.

Hippy and Reddy were despatched to find Nora and Jessica. While David took
upon himself the pleasant task of going for Anne. Tom remained with
Grace. He had a boyish admiration for this straightforward, gray-eyed girl
and made no secret of his preference for her.

Inside of an hour the sound of girls' voices outside proclaimed the fact
that the boys' mission had not been in vain. The girls had been informed
by their escorts of the afternoon's happenings, but Grace and Tom were
obliged to tell the story all over again.

"I hope Julia Crosby's ice bath will have a subduing effect upon her,"
said Nora. "I am glad, of course, that she didn't lose her life, but I'm
not sorry she got a good ducking. She deserved something for the way she
dragged Anne into that game of crack the whip."

"Let's talk about something pleasant," proposed Reddy.

"Me, for instance," said Hippy, with a Cheshire cat grin. "I am a thing of
beauty, and, consequently, a joy forever."

"Smother him with a sofa pillow!" commanded Tom. "He is too conceited to
live."

Reddy seized the unfortunate Hippy by the back of the neck, while David
covered the fat youth with pillows until only his feet were visible and
the smothering process was carried on with great glee until Nora
mercifully came to his rescue.




CHAPTER XV

A BELATED REPENTANCE


The following Monday as Grace Harlowe was about to leave the schoolroom,
Julia Crosby's younger sister, one of the freshman class, handed her a
note. It was from Julia, and read as follows:

"DEAR GRACE:

"Will you come and see me this afternoon when school is over? I
have a severe cold, and am unable to be out of bed. I have
something I must say to you that cannot wait until I get back to
school.

"Your sincere friend,

"JULIA"

"Oh, dear!" thought Grace. "I don't want to go up there. Her mother will
fall upon my neck and weep, and tell me I saved Julia's life. I know her
of old. She's one of the weeping kind. I suppose it's my duty to go,
however."

Grace's prognostication was fulfilled to the letter. Mrs. Crosby clasped
her in a tumultuous embrace the moment she entered the hall. Grace finally
escaped from her, and was shown up to Julia's room.

She looked about her with some curiosity. It was a light airy room,
daintily furnished. Julia was lying on the pretty brass bed in one corner
of the room. She wore a dressing gown of pale blue eiderdown, and Grace
thought she had never seen her old enemy look better.

"How do you do, Julia?" she said, walking over to the bed and holding out
her hand to the invalid.

"Not very well," responded Julia hoarsely. "I have a bad cold and am too
weak to be up."

"I'm sorry," said Grace, "the wetting didn't hurt me in the least. But, of
course, I wasn't in the water like you were. It didn't hurt Tom, either."

"I'm glad you are both all right," said Julia.

She looked solemnly at Grace, and then said hesitatingly, "Grace, I didn't
deserve to be rescued the other day. I've been awfully mean to you." She
buried her face in the bed clothing and sobbed convulsively.

"Julia, Julia, please don't cry," said Grace, her quick sympathy aroused
by the distress of another. "Did you think we would leave you to drown?
You would have done the same for me. Don't you know that people never
think of petty differences when real trouble arises?"

She laid her hand upon the head of the weeping girl. After a little the
sobs ceased and Julia sat up and wiped her eyes.

"Bring that chair over and sit down beside me, Grace. I want to tell you
everything," she said. "Last year I was perfectly horrid to you and that
little Pierson girl, for no earthly reason either, I thought it was smart
to annoy you and torment you. After we had the quarrel that day in the
gymnasium, I was really angry with you, and determined to pay you back.

"You know, of course, that I purposely tripped you the day of the
basketball game. I was awfully shocked when I found you had sprained your
ankle, but I was too cowardly to confess that I did it. Miss Thompson
would have suspended me from school. I didn't know whether you knew that I
had done it until I met you that day in the corridor, and the way you
looked at me made me feel miserable. Then we got hold of your signals."

She paused.

Grace leaned forward in her chair in an agony of suspense.

"Julia," she said, "I don't care what you did to me; but won't you please
say that Anne didn't give you those signals?"

"Miss Pierson did not give them to me," was the quick reply.

"I'm so glad to hear you say it," Grace answered. "I knew she was
innocent, but the girls have distrusted her all year. She lost the list
accidentally, you know, but they wouldn't believe that she did."

"Yes, I heard that she did," said Julia. "The list was given to me, but I
am not at liberty to tell who gave it. It was not your Anne, although I
was too mean to say so, even when I knew that she had been accused. I'll
write you a statement to that effect if you want me to do so. That will
clear her."

"Oh, Julia, will you truly? I want it more than anything else in the whole
world. A statement from you will carry more weight with the girls than
anything I could possibly tell them. It will convince the doubters, you
know. There are sure to be some who will insist on being skeptical."

Acting under Julia's direction, Grace brought a little writing case from a
nearby table, Julia opened it, selected a sheet of paper and wrote in a
firm, clear hand:

"To the members of the sophomore class, and to all those whom it may
concern:

"The accusation made against Anne Pierson last fall regarding the betrayal
of the basketball signals to the junior team is false. Our knowledge of
these signals came from an entirely different source.

"JULIA CROSBY,
Capt. Junior Team."

"And now," concluded Julia, "I have done something toward straightening
out the mischief I made. Will you forgive me, Grace, and try to think of
me as your friend?"

"With all my heart," replied Grace, kissing her warmly. "And I am so happy
to-day. Just think, the junior and sophomore classes will be at peace at
last."

The two girls looked into each other's eyes, and both began to laugh.

"After two years' war the hatchet will be buried," said Julia a little