"Who can she be? Not one of the girls at Dare Hall——"
This idea spun to nothingness very quickly. No! The figure ashore reminded Ruth Fielding of nobody whom she had seen recently. The feeling, however, that she knew the person grew.
The snow blew sharply into the faces of the skating girls; but she on shore was somewhat sheltered from the gale. The wind was out of the north and west and the highland of the island broke the zest of the gale for the strange girl.
"And yet she isn't strange—I know she isn't," murmured Ruth Fielding, casting another glance back at the figure on the shore.
"Come on, Ruth! Do hurry!" cried Helen, looking back. "Even Heavy is beating you."
Ruth quickened her efforts. The strange girl disappeared, mounting a path it seemed toward the center of the island. Ruth, head bent and lips tightly closed, skated on intent upon her mystifying thoughts.
The trio rounded the island at last. They got the wind somewhat at their backs and on a long slant made for the boathouse landing. It was growing dusk, but there was a fire at the landing that beckoned them on.
"Glad it isn't any farther," Helen panted. "This snow is gathering so fast it clogs one's skates."
"Oh, I must be losing pounds!" puffed Jennie Stone. "I bet none of my clothes will fit me to-morrow. I shall have to throw them all away."
"Oh, Heavy!" giggled Helen. "That lovely new silk?"