Yet early on Monday morning, when he drove over to the grove with Nick Wells to load the wood he had piled up, Will could not resist the temptation to go to the tree and see if Mr. Jordan had indeed stopped there the evening before. Yes, there were the tracks of his boots, clearly outlined in the snow. Will knew exactly the way he had walked to the tree, cast that furtive glance over his shoulder, and then passed his hand up and down the bark.
But why? That was the question; and surely it might well puzzle older heads than that of Will Carden.
The other adventure referred to had a distinct bearing upon the boy’s future life, and made him the village hero for many months to come.
Christmas week arrived with weather sharp and cold, although wonderfully brisk and exhilarating. One of the chief pleasures of the young folks of Bingham in winter was to skate upon Marshall’s pond, a broad stretch of deep water lying just west of the town, and not far from the Williams homestead. This pond was fed by a small brook that wound for miles through the country, and here the Bingham ice man harvested his supply each winter, often cutting holes in the ice which, when lightly frozen over, made dangerous places for the skaters, who did well to avoid them.
The day following Christmas a large crowd of youngsters assembled at the pond for skating, many of the boys and girls being anxious to try the new skates Santa Claus had brought them. The Williams children were all there except little Gladys, and Will Carden came over also, for he was an expert skater and had decided that an afternoon’s sport would do him good.
It was a merry throng, indeed, and Will was gliding along over the ice with Mary Louise when a sharp scream reached his ears and he saw the children scattering from one spot like a flock of frightened sheep.
Will dropped Mary Louise’s hand and sped as quickly as possible toward the place. He had known in an instant that an accident had occurred, and as he drew near he saw that the ice had broken. Then a small arm came into view above the surface, its fingers clutching wildly for support before it again disappeared.
Without hesitation Will flew toward the hole. The ice cracked and gave way as he reached the edge, and immediately he plunged into the water, where he kept his wits and began reaching in every direction for the drowning form he had noted.
From those standing at a safe distance a cry of horror arose; but it quickly changed to a shout of joy as Will Carden rose to the surface and caught at the edge of the ice for support, for in one arm he held Annabel Williams’ almost lifeless form.
“Shove us a rail, you fellows!” he called, wisely refraining from trying to draw himself up by the flimsy edge of ice he clutched.