Out of Deadly Peril
BY
K. Balfour Murphy
A Canadian boy and girl together were at one moment as happy as youth and health could make them, and at the next in imminent danger of their lives.
What on earth had happened to Gladys Merritt?
In the course of a few short weeks the girl was transformed from the merriest, most light-hearted creature into one often thoughtful, silent, and serious. The question then was, Why had she suddenly changed completely? Many guessed, but only two knew the real reason.
Barrie, where Judge Merritt lived, lies at the head of lovely little Lake Simcoe, in Western Ontario, Canada. In summer the lake is blue as the heavens above, the borders of it are fringed with larch and maple that grow right down to the rippling edge and bow to their own reflections in the clear waters beneath, while on its glassy surface can be seen daily numbers of boats and launches, the whole scene animated by merry voices of happy folks, with picnic baskets, bound for the woods, or others merely seeking relief from the intense heat on shore. Work is finished early in the day in the Colonies, and when school is over and the scorching sun begins slowly to sink to rest, social life begins.
But in Canada winter is long and extremely cold. With the fall of the beautiful tinted leaves that have changed from green to wonderful shades of red, purple, and yellow, Canadians know that summer is gone and that frost and snow may come any day, and once come will stay, though an unwelcome guest, for at least seven or eight months.
Now the young folks in Barrie relished this long spell of cold—to them no part of the year was quite so delightful as winter. What could compare with a long sleigh drive over firm thick snow, tucked in with soft warm furs and muffled up to the eyes—or tobogganing in the moonlight down a long hill—or skimming over clear, smooth ice—or candy-making parties—or dances, or a dozen other delights? What indeed? On every occasion Gladys seemed to be the centre figure; she was the life and soul of every party.