Part 30 (2/2)

”That jest saddens a lot of us with the same conviction,” muttered Ted Butler, shaking his head.

”But this I _do_ know,” continued Dowdell, ”if the weather continues cold there'll be some elegant skating before the week is out.”

Gridley did not slumber over the nitroglycerine mystery. Len Spencer, though he could gain no actual information, managed to have something interesting on the subject in each morning's ”Blade.”

The people of Gridley talked of the mystery everywhere.

There was one other mild sensation this week that lasted for a part of a day. Tip Scammon came up for his trial. He pleaded guilty to the thefts from the High School locker room, and also guilty to the charge of entering the Prescott rooms in order to hide his loot in d.i.c.k's trunk. By way of leniency toward a first offender the court let Tip off with a sentence of fourteen months in the penitentiary. This sentence, by good behavior on the part of Tip, would shrink to ten months of actual imprisonment.

In every way the police and the prosecuting attorney tried to make Tip reveal the name of his confederate. But Tip, for reasons of his own, maintained absolute, dogged silence on this head, and went to the penitentiary without having named the person who met him in the alleyway that evening when Tip himself was caught.

The promise of skating was made good. Wednesday afternoon it was discovered that the ice in Gaylor's Cove was in splendid condition, and strong enough to bear.

Thursday a series of High School racing contests were planned for Sat.u.r.day afternoon. There was so much money left over in the Athletics Committee's treasury that it was voted to offer a series of individual trophies for boy and girl skaters in different events.

Moreover, in these skating events members of the freshman cla.s.s were to be allowed to compete.

”Now, see here, fellows,” urged d.i.c.k, when he had gotten his partners aside, ”some of the freshman cla.s.s ought to be winners of some of the events. We want to give our cla.s.s a good name. And, out of the six of us, there ought to be one winner for something.

I wish you'd all do your best to get in shape. You'll all go over to the cove with me this afternoon, of course.”

They did. More than a hundred of the student body, most of them boys, were on the ice that afternoon.

Some went scurrying by for all they were worth. These were training for the races.

Others gathered in the less traveled parts of the cove, which was a large one, and practiced the ”fancy” feats. Tom Reade and Dan Dalzell put themselves in this cla.s.s. d.i.c.k and his other partners went in for speed.

Friday afternoon there was an even larger attendance.

Gaylor's Cove was about half a mile long, with an average width of a quarter of a mile. At the middle the cove was open for a long way upon the river.

At some points on the river proper the ice was strong enough to bear. Near Gaylor's Cove, however, the river current was so swift that the river ice at this point looked thin and treacherous.

No one ventured out on the ice just beyond the cove.

Friday night many a High School boy and girl studied the sky.

There was no sign of storm, nor did the conditions seem to threaten a thaw. Sat.u.r.day morning was cold and clear. The temperature, at noon, was just above freezing point, though not enough so to bring about a ”thaw” in the ice.

By one o'clock Sat.u.r.day afternoon Gaylor's Cove was a scene of great activity. Two thirds of the High School students were there, most of them on skates. There were three or four hundred other youngsters, and more than a hundred grown-ups.

”All we need is the band,” laughed d.i.c.k Prescott, as he skated slowly along with Laura Bentley.

”The click-clack of the skates is enough for me,” Laura replied.

”You are not down in any of the girls' contests, are you?” he asked.

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