Then, Penny saw a bent figure coming from the rear of the grounds, pulling a long sled behind him.

"Why, it's Winkey!" she recognized him. "Now what can he be doing with that sled? Surely at his age he isn't going coasting."

More than a little interested, the girl set her course the better to watch the hunchback. Soon she saw him striking off toward a pine woods and a large, two-story log cabin some distance away.

At the edge of the woods, not far from the cabin, had been stacked several cords of seasoned logs taken from the forest.

Pulling his sled alongside, Winkey began to pile it high with the cut firewood.

"I wonder if that's his wood?" thought Penny.

So absorbed had she become in Winkey's actions that she neglected to watch the drifts ahead. Too late, she saw that her singing skis were taking her directly into a wide, deep creva.s.se.

Desperately, Penny swerved and tried to check her speed. The break in the snow was extensive and could not be avoided.

Over the brink she shot. Poles flew from her hand and she clutched wildly for a hold on the bank. Failing, she tumbled over and over, landing in an ungainly heap of splintered skis at the base of the deep pit.

CHAPTER 9 _A CALL FOR HELP_

After coming to a stop at the bottom of the creva.s.se, Penny momentarily was too stunned to move.

Gradually recovering her breath, she gingerly twisted first one leg, then the other. Though pains shot through them, no bones were broken.

Rolling over on her back, the girl gazed up at the narrow opening far above her.

"Served me right for being so careless!" she thought. "But the $64 question, is how am I going to get out?"

With fingers numb from cold, Penny removed her broken skis.

Walls of the hole into which she had fallen were sharp and firm with frozen ice, offering few if any handholds.

Unwilling to call attention to her plight unless absolutely necessary, she studied the sheer walls carefully, and then, grasping a projection, tried to raise herself to a ledge just over her head. The ice broke in her fingers, and she tumbled backwards again.

Penny now began to suffer from cold. Her clothes, damp from perspiration, were freezing to her body.

"This is no time to be proud!" she thought. "I'll have to shout for help and hope Winkey hears me. He's the last person in the world I'd ask voluntarily, but if he doesn't help me, I may be trapped here hours! I could freeze to death!"

Penny shouted for help and was alarmed by the sound of her own voice. Not only was it weak, but it seemed smothered by the walls of the creva.s.se.

She knew the cry would not carry far.

But as she drew a deep breath preparatory to shouting again, she heard voices only a short distance away.

Her first thought was that her cry for help had been heard and someone was coming to her aid.

The next instant she knew better. Those who approached were arguing violently.

"You stole the wood from my land!" she heard the accuser shout. "I saw you pile it on your sled, and you're carrying it away now!"

Penny recognized the gruff voice of Vernon Eckenrod and guessed that he was talking to Winkey. Evidently the two were coming closer, for their argument was waxing louder.

Forgetting her own predicament, Penny listened intently. The pair were now almost at the brink of the creva.s.se.

"Say something!" Eckenrod roared. "What excuse have you got for stealing my wood?"

"b.u.t.ton your lip!" Winkey retorted. "The boss told me to get some wood for the fires at the monastery. So I done it."

"He told you to steal, did he?"

"You'll git your money."

"Money isn't the point! I cut that wood myself from my own land, and I want it for my own use! Here, give me that sled! You're hauling it straight back where you got it!"

"Keep your hands off!"

Penny heard the sound of scuffling, and then above her, at the mouth of the creva.s.se, she saw the two men struggling.

"Look out!" she called.

Startled by her voice, Eckenrod turned and looked down. At that instant, when he was off guard, the hunchback struck him. Reeling backwards, the artist tried to recover balance and could not. With a shriek of fright and rage, he fell into the chasm.

Penny attempted to break the man's fall with her body. She was not quick enough, and he rolled to the very bottom, ending up on a pile of broken skis. There he lay groaning.

If Penny had expected that Winkey would be aghast at his brutal act, she was to learn otherwise.

"That'll teach you!" he shouted in glee. "Don't never accuse me of stealing!"

"Help us out!" Penny called.

She knew Winkey heard her, for he stopped short and peered down into the creva.s.se to see who had appealed for help. Giving no sign he had seen her, he then disappeared.

"Maybe he's going for a rope!" Penny thought. "But I'd quicker think he's deserting us!"

Now thoroughly alarmed, the girl crept over the slippery ice to Vernon Eckenrod's side. He was conscious but stunned. Blood gushed from a cut on the back of his head and one leg remained crumpled beneath him.

With a handkerchief, Penny attempted to stop the flow of blood. She was relieved to note that the wound was a superficial one.

"Try to sit up," the girl urged. "If you lie on the ice your clothes will soon freeze fast."

Eckenrod's eyes opened and he stared blankly at her.

"Who are you?" he muttered. "How did you get down here?"

"I fell, the same as you. I'm Penny Parker, the girl you met yesterday at the monastery."

With her help, the artist pulled himself up on an elbow.