Half a dozen boys

by Anna Chapin Ray

"Please go, Miss Bess. I truly wish you would, and you can tell me how many times you fall down."

Bess had seen his struggle, and more than ever longed to stay with him; but the boys were clamorous, so she yielded, and went with them.

She had told the truth when she had said she could not skate, for, although she had owned her skates for ten years, she had not put them on as many times. But she was naturally sure-footed, and, with the three boys to help her, she was soon able to propel herself slowly across the smooth sheet of ice, in spite of occasional collisions with the many skaters.

"But what makes me turn around?" she asked anxiously, after she had repeatedly had the mortification of starting for some desired spot, only to turn helplessly midway on her course, and drift aimlessly backwards, with her puzzled face fixed on the starting-point.

"It's because you don't strike out evenly," said Teddy. "Now watch me, and do as I do." And he glided away across the pond.

Bess tried to glide after him, but her left foot constantly ran away from her right, and she could only toddle along in a series of short strokes, until she once more turned her back on the coveted goal, and, after a brief slide, stopped short, awaiting further instructions. It was a merry evening, and before they left the ice, Bess had learned to appreciate the fascination of the sport, while she retired amidst the congratulations of her three knights, who vied with one another in sounding the praises of their apt pupil. For a few days Bess made the most of her new accomplishment, and spent an hour or two of each day on the pond, where she quickly learned to feel at home, and at least could keep her face turned towards the object of her hopes. It was provoking to watch the ease with which her friends slid past her, looking so independent and sure of their footing; and Bess at first was tempted to give up the struggle, which she felt was making her ridiculous. But Rob's protestations encouraged her, and on the third day she ceased to be the new-comer. Her successor was a tall youth who awkwardly put on his skates, rose unsteadily to his feet, balanced himself for a moment, and then, with a smile that said as plainly as words, "Conquer or die," struck out boldly, only to land in an ignominious pile at her very feet. From that moment she felt herself a veteran in the art of skating.

It was late the next afternoon when Bess with one of her friends reached the pond. Their skates were soon on, and they struck out together into the merry crowd of skaters. Bess looked about for her cousin and his boon companions, who were nowhere to be seen, and then watched her friend, who was moving away alone, her swaying figure outlined against the ruddy sunset. Then, refusing all offers of assistance, she struggled up the pond, against the strong wind that nearly blew her backward. Half-way up the ice she paused, stood for a moment to catch her breath, and then, with the breeze helping her, lazily slid back, almost to the dam at the lower end of the ice. This performance she repeated several times, greatly to her own satisfaction. At length, she had stopped to speak to a friend, when a sound of mingled scraping and shouting made them both raise their eyes, and glance up the ice. A peculiar apparition was bearing down upon them, as they stood there in the gathering twilight. At first, they could make out little but its outline, but as it came rushing nearer, it was revealed in all its splendor. Four sleds, two red, one yellow, and one blue, had been lashed together, two in front, two behind, and covered with a sort of platform of boards, from the front of which rose a complicated system of bean-poles, crossed and re-crossed, bearing a red and yellow horse-blanket, spread as a sail. Seated in state on the four corners of this platform, each waving a diminutive flag, sat Rob, Ted, Bert, and Phil, while on an inverted keg in the middle stood Sam, blowing on a tin horn with such energy that his crimson cheeks looked ready to pop, like an overheated kernel of corn. There was no way to guide or stop this unwieldy ice-boat, when once it was well under way. For a moment, Bess watched it in amusement, until her friend suddenly exclaimed,—

"The dam! They don't think of it!"

True enough! They were rapidly approaching the edge of the ice; beyond lay a strip of still, green water, before it took its final plunge down on the rocks thirty feet below. The two women looked up the pond. There was no one near to help, and, besides, what could any one do? The boys were rushing to certain death; could it be that in the twilight they did not see their danger? But at that moment Bess saw them spring up, run to their improvised sail and try to pull it down, as if hoping in that way to check their mad speed; but it was too firmly lashed to its place. Must she see them drown? There was the one chance for them, and, straining her voice to the utmost, she shouted: "Rob! Phil! Jump for your lives!" and then turned away her head, not daring to look.

But the answering "All right" came ringing back to her, and, turning, she saw five prostrate figures on the ice, and the sleds, blanket and all, just sinking into the strip of dark water. Skating to the spot as quickly as she could, she found four of the heroes ruefully picking themselves up: Rob with a black eye, Phil with a cut lip, and Sam with a bloody nose, while Ted was uninjured. But Bert still lay motionless, stunned by his fall.