"Carrots."

"Brick top."

"Stop, this is terrible, let's start something."

"All right, get ready."

"Go!"

They took their positions and were again skirmishing after the puck.

"Oh, let's quit, I'm dead," Angela pleaded weakly, after they had played for a time. She had been buffeted about until she was completely winded.

"All right, lazy, you rest and we'll crack the whip," teased Betty.

As she said it, she took a chance whack at the puck with her hockey stick and sent it spinning. Over the ice it flew, while the girls looked on in fascinated horror, for it was heading directly for the boys, and never stopped until it had landed at the feet of the red-headed one.

"Betty!" gasped Lois.

Angela giggled outright. Then, for almost a minute there was absolute silence. All eyes were centered on the puck.

At last the red-headed boy lifted his stick and sent it back.

Betty called "Thank you ever so much," and he answered:

"Don't mention it," and pulled off his military cap, completely uncovering his fiery head. Then he and his friends skated off in the opposite direction.

"It is red, and no mistake," laughed Florence.

"It's a wonder it doesn't melt the ice," Angela answered. "What's the matter, Bet?" she added.

"You're all very unkind, he can't help it," Betty replied, straightening up. "I'm sure he's most polite. I like him," she finished decidedly.

The girls didn't know whether to tease her or not, so, to change the subject, Louise suggested the forgotten game.

"Get ready for crack the whip," she said. "Bet, you lead."

"All right, get ready-"

"Who's on the end!"

"Polly."

"Go ahead-"

The girls put their hands on one another's shoulders, forming a long line, and Betty started off, skating fast and keeping straight ahead.

Suddenly, when everybody was going like the wind she gave a sharp turn to the right and the girls went pell mell in every direction.

It was loads of fun and very invigorating. They played it over and over again, each girl taking a turn to lead.

"Polly's first this time," called Louise, "and Betty's last."

"Be merciful, Poll," Betty panted, taking hold of Lois' shoulders.

"I will not," laughed Polly. "Get ready-Go!"

Off they started for perhaps the sixth time. They were now well out from sh.o.r.e, and in places the ice was quite slushy. Polly raced ahead, never giving a thought about anything but the joy of sailing along with the wind in her face.

As she made the quick turn, the ice under their feet gave a sickening longdrawn "whirr-r" followed by a sharp crack.

For a minute there was pandemonium-what followed came very much more swiftly than it can be told.

There was a wild dash for firm ice-a startled scream and then the horrible picture of Betty struggling, and up to her neck in the water.

Lois and Polly made frantic efforts to reach her, but at every attempt the ice gave another warning crack.

Mrs. Baird, on the sh.o.r.e, called desperately for help, and the other girls stood rigid with fear.

It seemed an eternity, and then, the red-headed boy came, quickly, purposefully, and took command. He sent his friends for ropes and boards, while he himself lay down flat on the ice and wormed his way towards Betty.

She was still keeping up. Luckily the hole was small and she was wedged in between two big chunks of ice.

Lois and Polly stood helpless, waiting. Finally he called to them: "Get the rest and form a chain to me. Some one catch hold of my feet-Easy now."

The girls obeyed quickly and he crawled along until he could touch Betty. Very skillfully he took hold of her under her arms.

"Don't struggle," he warned her. "You're all right." And mustering every bit of his strength, he pulled her gently on to the ice beside him. "Now pull me back," he ordered.

When his friends returned with the rope, she was safe on sh.o.r.e rolled up in the steamer rug, and Mrs. Baird was beside her. He was the center of an admiring and relieved crowd of girls, who were all talking at once.

Still master of the occasion he dispatched one of his friends for a carriage, and another for a warm drink. "And," he added severely, after he had given them their directions, "don't be so blame long about it this time."

The warm drink arrived first-it was in a flask-and Mrs. Baird administered it sparingly.

Then the carriage arrived and she left Betty and came over to the others.

"You have been splendid," she said to the red-headed boy. "I have no words in which to thank you. I shudder to think what we would have done without you." She pressed his hand gratefully. "Thank you," she repeated, with a hint of tears in her voice.

The red-headed boy, though a hero, was easily embarra.s.sed.

"Oh, please," he stammered, "it was all right. Nothing at all. Here, let me help you get her in the carriage," he added hastily, glad of anything that would put a stop to these embarra.s.sing thanks, and because he wanted one more look at Betty.

This wish was of course mere curiosity. If a chap saves a girl's life, surely he had the right to know what she looked like, or so he argued with himself.

"Thank you, if you will," Mrs. Baird replied.

And together they lifted Betty into the back of the carriage. The steamer rug enveloped her like a mummy cloth, but as they got her safely on the seat, one corner of it fell away, and revealed to the red-headed boy her white face and blue lips, that tried so bravely to smile up into his eyes.

The carriage jogged off at a snail's pace-Mrs. Baird knelt on the floor beside Betty, the girls walked along the road easily keeping up with it.