CHAPTER XI
THE MYSTERIOUS SKATER
The skating carnival received faculty indorsement in an odd way. Paddyentered Academy Building one morning to find Professor Wheeler in frontof the bulletin board, on which the entry list for the races was posted.
“Good morning, Breen,” said the principal. “I see that you are going tohave a skating carnival.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Paddy.
“I used to skate once, Breen; I wonder now if I’ve forgotten how? Ibelieve I’d like to try it, anyway. Couldn’t you add a faculty race,Breen? I’d enter--that is--” He paused doubtfully. “That is, you know,if I can find another member of the faculty to race with. And I thinkI can; yes, I’m certain of it,” he added smilingly. “Add the facultyrace, Breen, and I’ll promise you two contestants at least.”
“We’ll do it, sir,” answered Paddy eagerly.
“Very well; come to the office to-morrow and I’ll give you my fee.”And the principal went off smiling broadly, and Paddy flew to reportthe wonderful news to Wallace and the other members of the committee.The next day Professor Wheeler paid his entrance fee, and a secondfee, which he explained was for another member of the faculty who hadconsented to race.
“And who is he, sir?” asked Paddy.
“Ah! that is a secret at present, Breen. But there is his fee, and youmay enter him as X----, an unknown quantity. And he’ll be on hand nextWednesday. By the way, what distance is this faculty race to be?”
“We thought a half mile would suit,” answered Paddy.
“A half mile? Tut, tut, my boy, we’re not so old and disabled as that.Change it to a mile, Breen, if you please.”
There was a deal of speculation throughout the school as to theidentity of the second faculty member. It might be Tomkins, who was bigand strong enough to win a race on skates; or it might be Beck--most ofthe boys thought it was--for he could skate well and frequently did.Or--well, it might be any one of the thirteen instructors, barring“Turkey,” of course, who was too old to skate and might blow topieces in a stiff breeze. The day of the racing carnival was awaitedimpatiently.
Wayne meanwhile practiced almost every day on the lake or the river,preferring the former because less frequented. Often Dave and Donaccompanied him, and the three took turns at holding Don’s stop-watchwhile the others raced together over the mile or half-mile course.The afternoon preceding the carnival was almost dark when the boystook off their skates at the river’s edge and started up the steepbank below the campus and a long half mile from the Academy. They weregoing to cut across the fields to the village and leave their skates tobe reground for the morrow’s contests. But halfway up the ascent Davepaused and drew the others’ attention to a figure across the river.Wayne and Don stopped and followed the direction of Dave’s arm. Underthe shadow of a clump of trees across the bare sweep of purple ice theycould just make out the form of a person skating slowly, and, as itappeared, stealthily up the river, holding as close as possible to thegloom afforded by the fringe of bushes.
“Who is it, I wonder?” said Don.
“Probably one of the fellows who has been practicing down stream in thehope of surprising us to-morrow?” suggested Dave. But Wayne shook hishead.
“It isn’t a boy, it’s a man; and he’s got a long muffler around hisneck. See, he’s stopped!”
“Where is he?” asked Dave. “I can’t see him now.”
“Look straight across to the thickest clump of bushes. He’s in the darkthere, and I believe he’s watching us. Looks as though he didn’t wantto be seen, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.--I say, fellows, let’s go over and have a look at him.What do you say?”
Don’s suggestion was greeted with enthusiasm, and the boys tumbled downthe bank again and proceeded to don their skates. The twilight haddeepened now, the river had become a broad path of gray between itsdarker shores, and the figure beneath the trees was lost to sight.
“Is he still there, do you think?” asked Dave, as he struggled with hisclamps.
“Yes,” said Wayne, “I’ve watched. If he goes on he’ll come against thatlight space of sky there and we can see him.”
Dave’s runners were fastened first and he started across the ice,whispering to Don to hurry after, and in a moment was part of thegloom. Don followed the next instant, and Wayne, still working with hisobdurate straps, was left alone. Then came a whistle and the sound ofringing blades on the frozen surface. He slipped the last buckle intoplace and followed up the river in pursuit of the skaters. Once heheard a shout, but he could see nothing save the high bank beside him,and, far up the ice, the twinkling lights of the school buildings. Oncehe came a cropper over a protruding spit of graveled beach, but pickedhimself up and was soon on his way again.
Suddenly the sound of skates ahead of him, and drawing nearer, broughthim to a pause.
“That you, Dave?” he shouted. “That you, Don?”
There was no reply; but a figure, black and formless, shot out of thegloom ahead, swung about with a short sweep of grinding runners almostunder his nose, and again disappeared in the direction from which ithad come. Wayne gave a cry and started in pursuit. It was like playingblindman’s bluff. Sometimes he thought he caught a glimpse of a darkerspot in the blackness ahead, but was not certain. His own skatesdrowned the noise of those ahead. But the twinkling lights grew nearerand nearer, and he gave a long shout of warning to Dave and Don, whomust, he thought, be waiting for him ahead. An answering shout from faroff sounded, and Wayne slid for a moment and strained his ears for thesound of skates. He heard it, but judged that the unknown had gained onhim, and he strained every muscle to overtake him. As near as he couldtell he was now at a point almost in the middle of the river and aboutopposite the boat house. The next moment he swept toward the latter,for above the noise of his own skating he had detected the sound ofclumsy steps on the boat-house landing. And then, while he believedhimself still well out from the shore, his ankles encountered the edgeof the landing and he pitched, headforemost, halfway across it, andsat up just in time to hear a chuckle in the darkness and the sound offootfalls on the steps leading up the cliff to the path above. Withan exclamation of anger Wayne got up, stumbled across the planks, andtried to climb the stairs. But his skates were sadly in the way, andhe soon gave up the effort and felt his way back to the edge of thelanding, where he sat and rubbed his bruised shins and shouted for theothers. Don arrived first, breathless and excited.
“I almost had him!” he panted, “but he doubled just off the point andhe’s gone back down the river. Where’s Dave?”
The two shouted loudly, and an answering hail came from near at hand.The next instant Dave felt his way cautiously up and fell into Wayne’slap.
“Did you see anything of him?” he gasped. Don repeated what he had toldWayne.
“Where did you say he turned? At the point under Academy Building?”
“Yes,” said Don.
“Why, you idiot, that was me!” Wayne laughed and Don returned, a triflecrossly:
“Well, why didn’t you sing out, then?”
“Because I didn’t suppose you were chasing me. I thought you were justfollowing. I never caught sight of the fellow after he darted out ofthe bushes and struck up the river. He was gone in a second.”
“Well, you won’t catch him,” said Wayne. “He’s got home by this time.”And he recounted his adventures. Dave whistled.
“He was a bully skater, anyhow. I’ll bet it was Paddy!”
“Nonsense!” answered Don. “He wasn’t built like Paddy.”
“No, he wasn’t one of the fellows,” Wayne said. “He was a man, notvery tall, and he had a muffler wound round his neck. And--and thefunny thing about it is, that it seems as though I had seen him beforesomewhere.”
“Well, let’s get these silly skates off and hurry up about it,” saidDon disgustedly. “It must be getting late, and I don’t want to have tofeed on crackers and sardines the way I had to the other night. And we
must get permission to take the skates to the village after supper.”
“Anyhow,” said Wayne, as he tugged at his straps, “I’m sure of onething; and that is, if I see that fellow to-morrow I’ll recognize him.”
“Same here,” responded Dave.
Wayne found a note from Carl Gray, together with Don’s remodeled golfballs, on his table when he returned to his room after supper. Donexamined the balls with interest.
“Pretty good work, I call it, Wayne. They look about as good as new andhave a dandy coat of paint on ’em.”
Wayne read the note. “Friend Gordon,” it ran, “here are those ballsof Cunningham’s. Some of them are not done very well. They were thefirst I tried, and didn’t mold so well as I’d like to have had them. Iwish you’d not let him pay for them, because they’re not very good andyou’ve helped me a lot.” (“Of course I’ll pay for them,” interruptedDon.) “I’ve remolded over forty balls so far, and have nearly twicethat many to do yet. I thought you’d like to know how I was gettingon. I sent some money home to-day and am going to pay you Saturday. Ifixed Greene’s cleek, and I think it as good as new; and I have threemore clubs to mend. If business keeps on increasing I’ll have to open ashop, I guess. Couldn’t find you, so write this instead. Yours, Gray.P. S.--_Thank you._”
The last sentence was much underscored, and Wayne grinned as he threwthe note aside.
“Decent chap, that Gray,” he said.
“I can’t say as to that,” answered Don, “but I do know that he’s a goodhand at remodeling golf balls.”