CHAPTER VI.

HOW A RACE ENDED.

"THEN you'll be at my house as soon after nine as you can to-morrow, Robert?"

"I never said I would come. Besides, if we don't get more frost to-night, the ice won't be safe to skate on."

"But we shall; it's freezing hard now. The fact is, you don't want to come; you're afraid of being found out."

A burning blush overspread Robert Grainger's face.

"Ah! I thought as much," said Jack Turner, with a sneer. "Poor little thing! It's a pity it couldn't be tied to its mother's apron-strings, then she'd always see what her pretty dear was about."

"You've no cause to say that, Jack. Mother's always willing enough to let us have pleasure. You know it's only because my uncle was drowned that father and she can't bear the idea of any of their children skating. I'm sure if one's careful, there isn't any danger. But they can't get over their nervousness, and that's why I don't want it to come to mother's ears that I've been learning to skate."

"Well, it needn't."

"We can't be certain of that. The last time we were on the lake in Regent's Park, Katie saw me. She didn't think it was I—she thought it was somebody just like me, and of course I didn't undeceive her."

Jack gave a low whistle.

"H'm," he said, "that's awkward. I'll tell you what, old fellow," he went on, after a minute's pause, "we'll go farther from home: What do you say to Hendon?"

Because there was no sense of wrong, there was no shame now, either in tone or look, as Robert replied in a simple straightforward manner,—

"It's out of the question. I haven't the money to pay my fare."

"That's no matter. I've enough to pay for half a dozen folks."

Jack was very generous, and it was this quality that made him a favourite among his schoolfellows. Indeed he had many good natural points, and doubtless they would have become strengthened and increased had he had such a training as Robert had received. But his mother had died when he was little more than a baby, and the aunt who had come to take her place in the house was not fond of children.

Consequently Jack never "took" to her, and he had grown up with no woman's tender, loving influence to guide him and keep him in the straight path. Of his father he saw very little. He was a commercial traveller, and sometimes would be from home for weeks together. After all, Jack was greatly to be pitied.

"So you'll come, won't you, Robert?" he continued. "You know it'll give me real pleasure to pay for you, and if you do as well as you did last time, you'll soon be the best skater in the school. You only had one tumble, and that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been tripped up."

"And you'll lend me your skates again?"

"Of course. I don't use them now I've got my acmes, so you've nothing to thank me for. I shall expect you to-morrow then at nine o'clock sharp. We shan't be back till evening, so mind you tell them at home you are going to spend the day with me; that'll be true enough, you know. Good-bye, old boy, a frosty night, and a glorious day for us to-morrow!"

This conversation took place one Friday afternoon as Robert and Jack came out of school together. At the end of the month the weather had again suddenly changed, frost had set in, and now at the beginning of February the hopes of the skaters rose high that they might yet get a few days' sport before the season was too far advanced to permit them to look forward to the pleasure.

On the Friday in question the thermometer had been steadily falling, and as Robert and Jack went to school in the afternoon, the sight of some venturesome skaters, hurrying with skates in hand towards the parks, had made their feet "itch to be doing likewise," as Jack expressed it, and he had declared that he and Robert must spend the next day on the ice.

Robert, however, had listened in silence, and as there was no time for more talk—for they just then arrived at school, and, if they would be in their places before the bell rang, had not a moment to lose—Jack was not certain whether he intended to fall in with the arrangement, but he very well knew how to manage his friend. And though Robert had resolved that he would never be persuaded to go on the ice again, the temptation proved too strong, and once more he became not conqueror but conquered in a struggle for moral victory over self.

The weather next morning was everything that could be desired. It had been freezing all night, and the sun rose in the grey sky like a large ball of red fire. Robert had asked and obtained permission to spend the day with Jack Turner on the previous evening, and as soon as he had finished breakfast, he rose to get his hat and coat.

"You will be home early, dear?" said Mrs. Grainger. "Remember it is not holiday time, and you have Monday's lessons to prepare."

"I'll come back to tea, mother. That'll give me all the evening to do them in."

"Perhaps it will be best, as Jack will then have a fair opportunity of learning his; from what you tell me, I think he requires longer time than you," and with not unnatural pride, Mrs. Grainger looked at the son whose good abilities and aptitude for his studies were well-known both at home and at school.

Robert experienced a sensation of shame beneath that proud, loving glance. How unworthy he was of it! Would she have given it him had she known? Then he hated himself for the mean, deceitful part he was playing, and for a moment a strong desire to go to Jack and tell him he could not keep his engagement entered his mind. He would say that he must do right, even if it necessitated the breaking of his word. But alas! that still small voice was quenched almost as soon as he had let himself hear it. No, he must go with his friend to-day, but this should be the last occasion. He could not again meet his mother's fond, earnest gaze with that horrible feeling of guilt which made him drop his own eyes, and with a hasty good-bye, hurried from the room.

That look haunted him during the whole of the journey to Hendon, and the wish that he had been strong to resist temptation rose again and again in his heart. But his remorse grew less when he found himself gliding along over the smooth frozen surface of the water. He had learnt to skate with remarkable quickness, and on the larger space and clearer ground which he now for the first time enjoyed, he was gradually able to increase his speed, till in the excitement and the exhilaration caused by the delightful exercise, everything else was forgotten. And the scene was a very charming one. The sun was shining brightly, the air was clear, and the figures of the ladies, as they glided gracefully hither and thither in their furs and bright feathers and ribbons, lent a very pretty and cheerful effect.

But many of these took their departure when, as the afternoon advanced, the number of skaters increased. Eager to avail themselves of the Saturday half-holiday, and hoping to find the water at Hendon less crowded than the lakes in the London parks, many passengers came down by rail, and soon the ice was thickly covered. Then warnings were heard that in one part it was showing signs of weakness beneath the heavy weight brought to bear upon it. Some of the older and wiser people came off the water; and Robert and Jack, as they passed an elderly gentleman who had been on the lake when they arrived, and had kindly given a hint or two to the boys when they were trying to do the outside edge, advised them to be satisfied with the pleasure they had had, and so make greater space for those who had more recently arrived on the scene. Perhaps Robert would have heard without heeding if at these words the promise he had given his mother had not flashed to his memory. If he would keep it, his time on the ice must be short.

"We'll leave the fancy skating, old boy," he said to Jack, "and take a straight turn or two just to get up our circulation before I go home. The mater seemed to think Monday's lessons would come off badly if I spent the whole of the day with you and so I said I'd be back to tea."

"All right," was Jack's somewhat unexpected reply; "I fancy I've had nearly enough of it myself, for I feel about used up. You beat me hollow, Robert. You don't look a bit tired."

"No, I'm nearly as fresh as when we began. Now, we'll have a real good turn for the last. Is the steam up, Jack? Then one, two, three, and off."

And away he flew. Jack tried to keep up with him, but very quickly fell behind, and Robert, feeling that all his energy must be put into the last few minutes of his day's pleasure, forgot he was going straight to the spot about which he had been warned. On, on he went, and some lads, older and bigger than himself; thinking he was having a race with Jack and noticing how far the latter was behind, followed him, crying out:

"That isn't fair. You should race with a man as good as yourself. Now, some of us 'll have a try with you. We'll see which will get to the other side of the water first."

At the words Robert felt a fresh thrill of excitement, and on he went at a yet quicker speed with a dozen followers at his heels. He was in front and he would keep there too. Ah! There was a fellow gaining upon him. Gaining upon him? No, he had passed him now, and he was only second in the race.

Hark! What was that cry! Somebody cheering him on? It must be that. Yes, he would win yet. Now for a desperate effort! That was good; again he was the foremost figure. But it was some distance yet to the goal, and his strength was giving way. Again he heard that cry. Ah! If he had only heard it aright, for the next moment he felt the ice sway beneath his weight. With a sudden fear at his heart that seemed to stop its beating, he turned aside. But it was too late.

There was a loud, crackling sound. He uttered a loud, piercing shriek as the loosened ice sank beneath his feet, and the next instant the cold water had closed over his head.

What happened next Robert did not know. When he came to his senses, he was lying on the ice, and somebody was pouring a burning, fiery liquid down his throat. Then he was aware that he was the centre of a little group, and that Jack, with a white, frightened face, was kneeling by his side.

"That's right, Robert," he gasped. "Oh! I'm so thankful to see you open your eyes."

Robert tried to speak, but his lips refused to utter the words.

"Give him some more brandy," he heard somebody say. And again he felt the burning liquid pass down his throat.

"Then they got me out?" he managed to whisper in a few minutes. But his words were very low, and only Jack caught them.

"Yes, there was a rope close by in case of accident, and they got hold of you first. You hadn't been any time under water. Robert, do you think you're well enough to try to get home."

Robert sat up. It was with great difficulty that he did so, but he succeeded.

"He'll do now," said one of the crowd. "The colour's coming back to his lips and cheeks."

"The sooner you can take off them wet clothes of yours the better," said another, addressing Robert. Then, as a murmur of horror was heard, the speaker turned, asking eagerly, "Eh! What's that? Drowned? And they are bringing him along?"

There was a fresh excitement now, and the crowd leaving the smaller for the greater, Robert and Jack found themselves comparatively alone.

"Do you think you could walk?" whispered Jack, in a voice full of strange, frightened horror. "It's awful to be here, and I'm afraid they'll ask your name, and then it'll all come out. I've got enough money to pay for a cab to take us to the station if you could manage to get across the ice."

Robert just moved his head by way of reply, and Jack helped him up, but he was so faint and giddy that he would have fallen back again, had not a man's strong arms been thrown around him. With this support the faintness presently passed. Then he was half led, half carried to a cab, and in a short time he and Jack were seated in the train, and every minute was bearing them nearer home.

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