I. AN ADVENTURE ON THE ICE

Christmas had been so fair, if not balmy, that Oriole Putnam, for the first time spending the principal New England holidays at Littleport, scarcely expected the black frost that followed close on the heels of New Year's Day.

Indeed, the tale of that local celebrity, "the oldest inhabitant," was that for forty years previous the bays and inlets about Littleport had not been so chained by the Frost King as they were now.

Littleport Harbor was frozen over so solidly that a Government ice-breaker was sent to open a channel for the Paulmouth packet to get in and out of the port. This channel, however, did not offer a safe way for Oriole to reach Harbor Island Light in Nat Jardin's power dory.

"And I am so worried about Uncle Nat's rheumatism, and whether Ma Stafford has recovered from that felon she had on her finger," Oriole told Lyddy Ann, the maid-of-all-work at Mrs. Rebecca Joy's house and Oriole's confidante and friend. "I just must find some way of getting over to the island."

During the open season, and ever since she had come to stay with Mrs. Joy, in the big old Dexter mansion on State Street, Oriole had driven the dory back and forth between the port and Harbor Light at least once a week. To be debarred from this habit and association was really a trial for the girl.

Oriole was an active and ingenious girl, and this, her first winter away from her semi-tropical home near Bahia, Brazil, was a most marvelous experience for her. The fun and frolic to be had in her present environment was neglected in no particular by the girl.

Although she was quite familiar with roller-skating, for the first time that she could remember she now saw ice skating. It was not a difficult matter for the girl to become proficient upon ice skates.

Before the bay was frozen over, as it now was, she had learned to skate on a shallow pond near Mrs. Joy's, in company with Minnie and Flossy Payne and other members of the Busy Bees, as their school society was called. Minnie and Flossy were Oriole's closest chums of her own age. But since Mr. Harvey Langdon had come from the West to claim his twin children, Myron and Marian, Oriole Putnam had spent much time with them every day. And now, while the skating was so good, she took the little ones out on the ice quite frequently.

The ranchman could not do too much for the twins, and he fully trusted them in Oriole's care. That is how it came about that, on this rather bleak if sunshiny afternoon, Oriole was drawing the twins on their sled swiftly over the pebbly ice toward Harbor Light Island.

They were going to have supper with Nat Jardin and his housekeeper, Ma Stafford, and the pleasure in prospect was almost as great, in the opinion of the twins, as that which they were having on the ice.

"Say, Oriole!" shouted the boy twin from his seat on the sled. "Do you s'pose Ma Stafford will have hot cakes for supper?"

"M-m-m!" chanted Marian. "I des love hot cakes. With syrup, too."

"Everybody does," declared Oriole, replying first to the little girl. "And of course Ma Stafford will have hot cakes. She always does this time of year."

"I hope she will have plenty of 'em," Myron added. "If she doesn't----"

"Well, what if she doesn't?" asked Oriole.

"I'll have to give part of mine to Mawyann, and she's such a little pig."

"I'm not a pig!" wailed his sister. "But I like hot cakes."

"You should not say that about Marian," admonished Oriole. "Suppose your papa heard you?"

"He can't hear me clear out here on the ice," Myron said confidently. "And anyway, he's gone to see Nurse Brown. He couldn't hear me."

"That does not matter," Oriole told him, still with seriousness. "What are you? Just an eye-server?"

"What's that?" asked the little boy, startled. "My--my eyes are all right."

"I got sumfin in my eye once," cried Marian. "It was a singer. Nursie got it out with the corner of her han'kercher. She did!"

"I guess it was a cinder, not a singer," commented Oriole. She had halted with her back to the wind, the better to talk to and hear the twins. "But an 'eye-server,' Myron, is what Mrs. Rebecca Joy calls those people that you can't trust to do as well out of your sight as they do when you watch 'em. You ought to speak just as nicely of your sister when you are away from your papa as you do when he can hear."

"You're talking about hearing, not seeing, Oriole Putnam," said the young culprit promptly.

"It amounts to the same thing. But I can't stand here all day and argue because you are naughty, Myron Langdon. We must get on," and she caught up her stroke again and jerked the sled into motion.

Oriole was skating rapidly toward the island, the sled following her swift pace at the end of a long rope. Head down, breathing deeply, eyes and cheeks aglow, the girl pursued her flight at top speed while the twins on the sled screamed their delight.

Although Myron and Marian were not many months past their fourth birthday, they were plucky little youngsters. Myron was especially a brave child. He clung to the hand-lines of the sled while his sister sat close behind him, her plump, gaitered legs astraddle and clinging with both hands to the belt of her brother's coat.

There were a good many other skaters on the ice besides Oriole Putnam; but they were not so far down the harbor. But the several iceboats raced from the wharves to the edge of the Tide Flow where the current was always so strong that ice never formed.

Oriole was well away from the Flow and far from the channel the ice-breaking steamer had made, so that there was no danger of either her or the twins going into the water. At least, any one with judgment would have said the trio were quite safe.

There were, however, thin patches in the harbor ice. Usually they were to be observed rods away. The lift of the tide had opened holes here and there, and these holes had been skimmed over again with thin ice. These blue patches Oriole very carefully avoided. She was not the girl to take risks with her own life or that of her charges.

The objects before her on Harbor Light Island stood out distinctly in the afternoon sunshine. The tall white staff of the light, in the little barnacle-like cottage at the foot of which she had lived when she first came to the island, was an object that could be seen far, far at sea.

But now Uncle Nat and Ma lived in the old house at the northern end of the island, overlooking the main entrance to Littleport Harbor. Oriole was steering for the tiny cove just below the bluff on which this cottage stood.

The girl and the sled were not a quarter of a mile from her destination when Anson Cope's Bluebird, the biggest ice-craft on the bay, came whirling down upon them. It did not seem that the steersman of the huge craft could escape seeing Oriole and the sled. And of course he did not. But he ran dangerously close to the small figures on the ice.

Marian looked over her shoulder and began to scream with terror. But it was several seconds before Oriole was aware of the close approach of the ice-craft. Then the peak of the big sail seemed to be hanging right over her head.

Oriole screamed, too, but she was not stricken helpless. She swerved in her course and tried to get the sled off to one side. The Bluebird tacked, and as the mainsail swung over, the steersman caught another glimpse of the girl and the sled and its burden.

The peril was too imminent then for the master of the iceboat to change his course. He had the Tide Flow directly ahead. In a moment he must tack again to escape disaster.

His starboard runners crashed through the thin ice upon the pool which Oriole was skirting. It was a terrific smash and the water flew high in the air--a regular geyser.

In falling, the deluge overwhelmed the girl. She fell upon her knees, and, sliding and scrambling, plunged suddenly into the cold sea. She could not cast off the drag-rope; and even that would not have saved the twins from a ducking. The sled was aimed right at the open water and it followed Oriole through the broken ice.

The force of the wind had driven the iceboat a mile on its way back toward the port by the time Oriole and the twins were actually in the water. The boatmen were too far away to render the least assistance. By the time they could return, the three in the water would have been under the ice.

But Oriole Putnam was not helpless. Fearful as she was for her own safety, she thought at once of Myron and Marian. She went down in her first plunge far below the surface of the sea; but during the previous summer while living at Harbor Light she had learned to swim and was not afraid of the water itself.

She made her way to the surface and rose as high as she could among the broken cakes of ice. The entire surface ice of the pool had been crushed by the weight of the iceboat. Its swift passage was all that had saved it from wreck.

There was nothing stable for Oriole to cling to. Nor was she at once looking for escape. She looked for the little heads of the twins.

She saw the sled. Two little blue-coated arms were about it, the mittened hands clinging fast.

She dashed the splintered ice out of her way and plunged toward the sled. One of the twins clung fast. Where was the other?

Oriole was sobbing in her throat, despairing and afraid. What should she say to Mr. Langdon, who had trusted the twins to her care? Oriole felt at this moment that she must be judged guilty for the accident.

She plunged forward and caught one of the blue arms. Myron's head popped up. The boy was actually self-possessed!

"I can't see Mawyann!" he sputtered. "I can't see her!"

"Wait! Wait!" begged Oriole. "She must be here--she must!"

"She ain't," said Myron. "She's so silly! She went right down under the ice."

His own teeth were chattering, but he managed to speak quite plainly. Oriole had all she could do to hold him up and keep above the surface herself. Had she caught sight of little Marian she would have had to desert Myron to get his sister.

Oriole could see nobody on the ice near enough to aid them in their terrible predicament. Little Marian did not appear upon the surface of the troubled water. As the moments slipped by the girl felt that here was tragedy. The little Langdon girl, who had been as much her care as Myron, must be drowned!