Duncan Polite, the Watchman of Glenoro

by Mary Esther Miller MacGregor

The pond, however, was the centre of attraction. For several evenings Wee Andra had been furnishing hilarious entertainment for the village by his agonized efforts to skate. Donald had undertaken the herculean task of instructing him in the art, and no one envied him his position. For while the Glenoro giant was not utterly devoid of agility on his native element, on the ice, and crippled by skates, he was as helpless as an ocean steamship without an engine and almost as difficult to navigate. The crowd generally gave him a wide space for their gyrations, for, when Wee Andra succumbed to the forces of gravity he never managed to descend unaccompanied.

One evening the tutor called in reinforcements. It was the last night of his holidays and he did not want to spend it all on even such a faithful friend as Andrew. So Donald summoned Allan Fraser to assist him in piloting his unsteady burden to the other shore. With their pupil hanging helpless between them, the two young men staggered uncertainly along, followed by a noisy crowd, very merry, and very prodigal of advice of a highly mirth-provoking order. Between his frantic lunges the victim was vowing death and destruction to all and sundry, from his faithful teachers down, as soon as he was free from the accursed shackles. The young man's wrath was not appeased by the fact that his supporters were weak with laughter and that Bella Hamilton was skimming gaily up the river with Mack Fraser, the most expert skater on the pond.

Jessie was circling around with Maggie, waiting for Donald. She had promised him this last evening. He was to join her as soon as he had dragged his friend once more over the slippery circuit. Just as Donald turned away, the minister came skating smoothly towards her. He had just arrived. Would Miss Jessie not come up the river a little way with him? She glanced across the pond. The boys were still struggling manfully with their wobbling burden. They could not be back for some time, she reflected. Don would never know if she took just one little skate up to the school house and back. She gave the minister her hand and they glided up the winding silvery track to where the moonlight was hidden by the towering river banks.

Meanwhile, Wee Andra, goaded to desperation by his absolute lack of success and the facetious remarks which were rendering his guides weak and incompetent, resolved to give up the hopeless struggle. He shoved aside his supporting comrades fiercely, and came down upon the ice with a crash that seemed as if he had decided to end his tortures Samson-like and die with his tormentors. But fortunately the ice held.

He tore off his skates, and, hurling them in the direction whence had arisen most of the remarks upon his uncertain locomotion, leaped up and charged headlong into the ranks of the enemy.

Very much relieved, Donald skated back eagerly to Jessie. When he reached the spot where he had left her, he saw her disappearing with his rival up the glittering pathway. Donald's face grew dark with anger. He was too indignant to consider that he had returned much sooner than she expected. He realised only that she had left him on this his last night, and for that fellow! He turned with a fierce jerk, and almost skated into Maggie. That young lady was darting wildly here and there in her efforts to elude Syl Todd. Whatever trouble Syl might have with his head, he was the perfection of nimbleness with his feet, and Maggie was almost cornered. She clutched Donald's arm.

"Oh, Don," she cried, "get me out o' this. That crazy little mosquito is after me again!"

Glad of an excuse for swift motion, Donald caught her hands and swept her forward with a force that made her gasp. Away they spun in a mad race up the river, Maggie propelled by the impulse of a wild glee, Donald by the anger that was consuming him. Neither had any thought of the direction they were taking, neither dreamed that their winged flight was to be a race with death.

A few moments earlier Jessie had declared that they must turn back. They had gone farther up the river than they had ever ventured before, and she was troubled at the thought that Donald might be waiting. John Egerton felt chagrined at her evident anxiety to return. He could not shut his eyes to the fact that Donald was very much to her, perhaps everything. "Let us cross here, and go down the other side," he suggested, wishing to prolong the pleasure. They glided out from the shadow of the overhanging cliffs, the ice ringing beneath their feet. Here the banks were close together, and a narrow strip of moonlight marked the middle of the stream. Just as they touched its silvery edge, there came a loud crackling sound. John Egerton realised with appalling suddenness that he had made a fatal mistake. With a powerful swing of his arm he sent the girl flying forward. "To the shore!" he shouted. Before Jessie could grasp his meaning she felt herself darting forward with the impetus from his arm, and at the same instant the ice beneath her companion gave way with a sickening crash, and he was engulfed in the swirling black water.

The girl's wild scream of terror was scarcely uttered when there was a rush past her; she realised as if in a dream that Maggie was beside her and that someone was darting out towards the middle of the river, grasping a stout rail. The sisters clung to each other for an instant in dumb fear, as they saw in the narrow strip of moonlight, the minister's head, just above the black hole. He was clinging desperately to the edge of the ice, which broke off now and then in his benumbed grasp. Donald shouted a word of encouragement, and laying the rail upon the ice he threw himself across it and worked cautiously forward. As he went down upon the rail there was a cry from the bank.