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Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year at High School

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<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2><h3>A BRAVE RESCUE</h3> Grace was still where she had fallen, cooling a large, red lump on her forehead by applying her handkerchief first to the ice and then to the swollen place, when she suddenly felt herself to be entirely alone in the world. "Everybody has gone home to dinner!" she exclaimed, as she glanced over her shoulder at the other end of the pond, now denuded of skaters. Then she shifted her position, looking for Tom and Julia. She had never dreamed, when she saw her friend go whizzing across the ice, that he had not caught the reckless girl in time to warn her of her danger. In a flash she saw the empty expanse of ice before her. She leaped to her feet, balancing herself with difficulty, for her head was still dizzy from the blow. "Tom! Tom Gray!" she called. "Where are you?" "Run for help!" came the answer. In another moment she saw them clinging to a broken ledge of ice, Tom supporting Julia Crosby. As for the junior captain, she was weeping bitterly, and making no attempt to help herself. Grace anxiously scanned the expanse of the ice. It was nearly a mile to the other end of the pond, and the last group of skaters had disappeared over the brow of the hill. "You must think quickly," she said to herself. Her eyes took in the other shore. Not a soul was there, not a dwelling of any sort; nothing but the great ice house that stood like a lonely sentinel on the bank. Yet something seemed to tell her that help lay in that direction. Once before, in a moment of danger, Grace had obeyed this same impulse and had never regretted it. Once again she was following the instinct that might have seemed to another person anything but wise. Skating as she had never skated before, Grace Harlowe reached the shore in a moment. Here, dropping to the bank, she quickly removed her skates, then ran toward the ice house, feeling strangely unaccustomed to walking on the ground after her long morning on skates. "What if I am off on a wild-goose chase?" she said to herself. "Suppose there is no one there?" She paused for an instant and then ran on faster than before. "I shall find help over there, I know I shall," she thought as she hurried over the frozen ground and made straight for the ice house. There was no time to be lost. Tom and Julia were liable to be sucked under and drowned while she was looking for help. Grace pushed resolutely on. In the meantime hardly four minutes had really elapsed since the skaters had tumbled into the water. On the other side of the ice house she came abruptly upon a man engaged in loading a child's wagon with chips of wood. "Help!" cried Grace. "Help! Some people have broken through the ice. Have you a rope?" The man made no answer whatever. He did not even look up until Grace shook him by the shoulder. "There is no time to lose," she cried. "They may drown at any moment. Come! Come quickly, and help me save them." The man looked at her with a strange, far-away expression in his eyes. "Don't you hear me?" cried Grace in an agony of impatience. "Are you deaf?" He shook his head stupidly, touching his ears and mouth. "Deaf and dumb!" she exclaimed in despair. Holding up two fingers, Grace pointed toward the water. Then she made a swimming motion. Perhaps he had understood. She could not tell, but her quick eye had caught sight of a long, thin plank on the shore. Pulling off one of her mittens, she showed him a little pearl and turquoise ring her mother had given her for a birthday present, indicating that she would give it to him if he would help her. Then she seized one end of the plank and made a sign for him to take the other; but the stubborn creature began to unload the chips from the wagon. Grace ran blindly ahead, dragging the plank alone. "He's feeble-minded," she quivered. "I suppose I shall have to work this thing by myself." When she had reached the bank, Grace heard him trotting behind her with his little wagon. In another moment there was a tug at the board. She turned and shook her fist angrily at him; but, without regarding her in the least, he lifted the plank and rested it on the wagon. Then motioning her to hold up the back end, he started on a run down the bank. "The poor soul thinks he's a horse, I suppose," she said to herself, "but what difference does it make, if we can only get the plank to Tom and Julia?" Grace soon saw, however, that the idea was not entirely idiotic. Later she was to offer up a prayer of thanks for that same child's wagon. The deaf and dumb man was wearing heavy Arctic rubbers, which kept him from slipping; while Grace, whose soles were as smooth as glass, kept her balance admirably by means of the other end of the plank. Tom and Julia Crosby had now been nearly ten minutes in the water. Twice the ice had broken under Tom's grasp, while Julia, who seemed unable to help herself, had thrown all her weight on the poor boy, while she called wildly for help and heaped Grace with reproaches for running away. "If it were not for the fact that it would be the act of a coward," exclaimed Tom at last, his teeth chattering with cold, "I would let go of your arm and give up the job of supporting you in this ice water for talking about Grace like that. Of course she has gone for help. Haven't you found out long ago that she is the right sort?" "Well, why did she go in the wrong direction?" sobbed Julia. "Everybody is over on the other bank. There is nothing but an ice house over here." "You may trust to her to have had some good, sensible reason," retorted Tom loyally. "I don't think I can keep up much longer," exclaimed Julia, beginning to cry again. "Keep on crying," replied Tom exasperated. "It will warm you—and remember that I am doing the keeping up. I don't see that you are making any special effort in that direction." Once Tom had endeavored to lift Julia out of the hole, and he believed, and always insisted, in telling the story afterwards, that if she had been willing to help herself it could have been accomplished. But Julia Crosby, triumphant leader of her class, and Julia Crosby cold and wet as a result of her own recklessness, were two different beings altogether. "Grace Harlowe has left us to drown," she sobbed. "I am so wretched. She is a selfish girl." "No such thing," replied Tom vigorously. "Here she comes now, bringing help as I expected I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself." He gave a sigh of relief when he saw Grace and the strange man approaching at a quick trot, the wagon and plank between them. His confidence in Grace had not been misplaced. He felt that they would soon be released from their perilous predicament. <ANTIMG src="./images/146.jpg" alt="Grace and the Strange Man Quickly Approached" title="Grace and the Strange Man Quickly Approached" /> Grace and the Strange Man Quickly Approached. "All right," called Grace cheerfully as she approached. "Keep up a little while longer. We'll have you both out in a jiffy." Both rescuers slid the plank on the ice until one end projected over the hole. Then the man and Grace both lay flat down on the other end and Grace called "ready." Julia Crosby seized the board and pulled herself out of the water, safe, now, from the breaking of thin ice at the edge. "Now, Tom," cried Grace. But Julia's considerable weight had already weakened the wood. When Tom attempted to draw himself up, crack! went the board, and a jagged piece broke off. This would not have been so serious if the ice had not given way. Then, into the water, with many strange, guttural cries, slipped the deaf and dumb man. Grace herself was wet through by the rush of water over the ice, and just saved herself by slipping backward. There was still a small portion of the plank left, and, with Julia Crosby's help, Grace thought they might manage to pull the two men out. But Julia looked hardly able to help herself. She sat shivering on the bank trying to remove her skates. "Julia," called Grace desperately. "You must help me now or these two men will drown. Help me hold down this plank." Aroused by Grace's appeal, Julia meekly obeyed, and, still shivering violently, knelt beside Grace on the plank. But it was too short; when Tom Gray seized one end of it he nearly upset both the girls into the water. "Oh, what shall we do?" cried Grace in despair when suddenly there came the thought of the little wagon. Quickly untwisting a long muffler of red silk from about her neck, Grace tied it securely in the middle, around the cross piece of the tongue of the stout little vehicle. Then she pushed it gently until it stood on the edge of the hole. Giving one end of the muffler to Julia, Grace took the other herself. "Catch hold of the tail piece, Tom," she cried. Fortunately the ice was very rough where the girls were standing, or they would certainly have slipped and fallen. They pulled and tugged until gradually the ice in front of them, with Tom's additional weight on it, instead of breaking began to sink. But Tom Gray was out of the hole now; helped by the wagon he slipped easily along the half-submerged ice, then finally rolled over with a cry of relief upon the firm surface. In the same way they pulled out the deaf and dumb man, who had certainly been brave and patient during the ordeal, although he had uttered the most fearful sounds. As soon as his feet touched the solid ice, he seized his wagon and made for the bank. Grace, remembering she had promised him her ring, hurried after him, but she was chilled to the bone and could not run. By the time she reached the bank he had rounded the corner of the ice house and was out of sight. "He evidently doesn't care to be thanked," said Tom Gray as Grace returned to where he and Julia stood waiting. "We had better get home as soon as possible or we'll all be laid up with colds." The three half-frozen young people made their way home as best they could. Their clothes had frozen stiff, making it impossible for them to hurry. Julia Crosby said not a word during the walk, but when she left them at the corner where she turned into her own street, she said huskily: "Thank you both for what you did for me to-day, I owe my life to you." "That was a whole lot for her to say," said Grace. "She ought to be grateful," growled Tom. "She was the cause of all this mess," pointing to his wet clothes. "I believe she will be," said Grace softly, "After all, 'It's an ill wind that blows no one good.'" Grace's mother was justly horrified when Grace, in her bedraggled condition, walked into the living room. She insisted on putting her to bed, wrapping her in blankets and giving her hot drinks. Grace fell into a sound sleep from which she did not awaken until evening. Then she rose, dressed and appeared at the supper table apparently none the worse for her wetting. Meanwhile Tom Gray had gone to his aunt's, given himself a brisk rubbing down and changed his wet clothing for another suit he fortunately happened to have with him. Thanks to his strong constitution and vigorous health, he felt no bad effects. He then went down to the kitchen, asked the cook for a cup of hot coffee, and, after hastily swallowing it, rushed off to find David, Hippy and Reddy and tell them the news. He was filled with admiration for Grace. "She is the finest, most resolute girl I ever knew!" he exclaimed as he finished his story. "Hurrah for Grace Harlowe!" shouted Reddy. "Let's go down to-night and see if she's all right?" suggested David. Before seven o'clock the four boys were on their way to the Harlowe's. They crept quietly up to the living-room window. Grace sat by the fire reading. Very softly they began a popular song that was a favorite of hers. Grace's quick ears caught the sound of the music. She was out of the house like a flash, and five minutes later the four boys were seated around the fire going over the day's adventure. "The deaf and dumb man who helped you out is quite a character," said Hippy. "I know him well. He used to work for my father. He isn't half so foolish as he looks, either. As for that wagon you used as a life preserver, I am proud to say that it was once mine." "It must have been made especially strong," observed Reddy. "It was. Hickory and iron were the materials used, I believe. I played with it when but a toddling che-ild," continued Hippy, "and also smashed three before my father had this one made to order. ''Twas ever thus from childhood's earliest hour,'" he added mournfully. "I always had to have things made to order." There was a shout of laughter at Hippy's last remark. From infancy Hippy had been the prize fat boy of Oakdale. "It's only seven o'clock," said David. I move that we hunt up the girls and have a party. That is, if Grace is willing." "That will be fine," cried Grace. Hippy and Reddy were despatched to find Nora and Jessica. While David took upon himself the pleasant task of going for Anne. Tom remained with Grace. He had a boyish admiration for this straightforward, gray-eyed girl and made no secret of his preference for her. Inside of an hour the sound of girls' voices outside proclaimed the fact that the boys' mission had not been in vain. The girls had been informed by their escorts of the afternoon's happenings, but Grace and Tom were obliged to tell the story all over again. "I hope Julia Crosby's ice bath will have a subduing effect upon her," said Nora. "I am glad, of course, that she didn't lose her life, but I'm not sorry she got a good ducking. She deserved something for the way she dragged Anne into that game of crack the whip." "Let's talk about something pleasant," proposed Reddy. "Me, for instance," said Hippy, with a Cheshire cat grin. "I am a thing of beauty, and, consequently, a joy forever." "Smother him with a sofa pillow!" commanded Tom. "He is too conceited to live." Reddy seized the unfortunate Hippy by the back of the neck, while David covered the fat youth with pillows until only his feet were visible and the smothering process was carried on with great glee until Nora mercifully came to his rescue. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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