Follow the Ball

by Ralph Henry Barbour

The brook had been turning slowly to the right for some minutes when, reaching a clear stretch, Joe saw trouble ahead. The brook broadened where a second stream entered and a blacker path there told him that he was looking at open water. He might stop, with difficulty, and veer into the inhospitable arms of the trees and shrubs, or he might keep on, trusting to luck to find ice along the margin. He chose the latter. Then there was a gurgling and murmuring of water in his ears, a wide pool of moving water at his feet and the swift realization that for at least three yards the ice was gone from bank to bank!

He had frequently seen Bert leap over a fairly high obstruction set on the surface of the ice, such as a barrel or a low hurdle, and he had witnessed other fellows make broad-jumps on skates, but how these feats had been accomplished he had no very clear notion. Nor had he time to consider the matter now, for almost as soon as he had sighted the crisis he was up to it. His heart did a little somersault about under his front collar button, as it seemed, and then he had brought his gliding skates together, had bent at the knees, had snapped his body straight again and was flying through air.

He landed in darkness, yet on a solid surface. His left foot, trailing, caught its skate point on the edge of the ice and brought him to his knees, but, by sweeping his arms wildly, he somehow kept his balance and somehow got both feet beneath him once more and again struck out. A moment later a sudden sharp bend found him unprepared and he had to spread his skates wide apart and throw his body hard to the right, and even so he almost came a cropper and only saved himself by a complete spin that must have looked more surprising than graceful. Yet that was the only time he really slowed down from lake to town, the town that scarcely a minute later shot its lights at him through the trees. Even the bridge failed to halt him, for there was headroom if one skated low, and after that the trees, and even the bushes, were gone and he was speeding through a flat meadow, with the church and houses of North Pemberton standing sharply against the winter sky ahead.

His journey by ice ended where a wagon bridge crossed the brook near where the town’s one illuminated sign proclaimed “Telegraph and Telephone.” He climbed the bridge abutment and floundered across the roadway. In the telegraph office a girl blinked startledly at the sound of his skates as he waddled from door to counter.

“I want to get the Sheriff’s office in Pemberton,” gasped Joe, his breath just about all gone now. “I—it’s important!”

The girl came to life quickly. “Sheriff’s office?” she asked briskly. “If you want the Sheriff he’s here at the Hotel. One block to your left!” The last sentence was in a higher voice, for Joe was already clanking through the doorway.

Camp Resthere’s uninvited guests did full justice to the meal that Hal finally set before them, the more so, doubtless, because Hal had encountered all sorts of difficulties and delays. One thing after another had, it appeared, been mislaid, so that it required both his and Bert’s most earnest efforts to find it. At such times there were opportunities for hurried conferences. Then Hal cut his finger while slicing bread. At least, Bert spent fully ten minutes bandaging it, although, strangely enough, there was no scar in sight the next day. The visitors, especially Slim, displayed more or less impatience, but the fire was comforting, they were fairly certain of a long respite from unwelcome attentions on the part of Sheriff Collins and they contented themselves with grumbling. In the end even Hal’s resourcefulness in the matter of inventing delays was exhausted and supper was served. It was a good supper, as it should have been since Hal had cooked up about everything in sight and practically left the larder bare. But there was none too much for the half-famished guests. They ate fast and wolfishly of everything and displayed no hesitation in asking for “seconds” or “thirds.” Yet, instead of displeasing their hosts they did just the opposite, and Hal beamed and urged them on in most hospitable fashion. In fact, if Slim and his partner had been less absorbed in the pleasant operation of satisfying twelve-hour appetites they might easily have become suspicious at Hal’s insistence.

The meal ended at last, however, by which time Hal’s watch indicated ten minutes past six. It had been twelve minutes before five when he had stood at the window and seen that dark form speed away down the lake. Of course, Sheriff Collins couldn’t by any possibility reach the scene until well after the robbers had gone on, but there was snow on the ground now and it ought not to be hard to trail them. There was no telling how long it would take Joe to reach North Pemberton, but, with luck—

A low ejaculation from Bert, across the table, aroused him from his conjectures and he looked up into the muzzle of a revolver in the hands of the big man. He felt much relieved when the muzzle turned to the right and covered the disturbed Bert again. The big man was talking.

“Sorry to trouble a couple of decent guys like you fellows,” said the spokesman in gruff apology, “but Slim and me are a little short of the ready. Get me? And we could do with a couple of coats, too, and maybe a couple of pairs of shoes if you happened to have any to fit. Don’t bother to move, friends. Just sit easy and Slim’ll take up the contribution. If you did happen to move you’d be mighty sorry for it, believe me!”