“It’s one of the rules of Dick & Co.,” Prescott answered, as they turned and skated slowly back toward the center of the cove, “when we go into anything we consider it as good as won from the outset.”

“Well, I like that spirit,” Laura admitted.  “Faint heart never yet won anything but a spill.”

Laura had her card out by this time, and was studying it leisurely, trusting to her companion to guide her.

“I see Fred Ripley is entered for the grand event in fancy skating,” she observed.

“Yes; are you interested in him?”

Something in the directness of the question caused the girl to bite her lips.

“Now, that’s hardly fair, Dick,” she cried, flushing with vexation.  “No; the fact is, I’m hoping he’ll lose.”

“Why?”

“Because, Fred has never been very nice to you, Dick.”

That was direct enough, and Dick flushed with pleasure.

“Thank you, Laura; that’s more handsome than what I said to you.”

“I accept your apology,” she laughed.  “Look!  There goes Fred Ripley now!  How foolish of him.”

Fred was heading straight out of the cove toward the river.  He was a fine skater, and now he was showing off at his best.  He had adapted a “turn promenade” step from roller skating, and was whirling along, turning and half dancing as he sped along.  It was a graceful, rhythmical performance.  Despite the fact that young Ripley was not widely liked, his present work drew considerable applause from the spectators.

That applause acted like incense under the young man’s nostrils.  He determined to go farther out, maintaining his present step unbroken.

“Look out, Ripley!” warned Thomp.  “The ice won’t bear out there.”

Fred didn’t reply by as much as a look.  He kept on out toward the thin ice.

Cra-a-ack!  Splash!  The thin ice had broken.  Ripley, moving backwards, did not realize his fix until his feet; shot into the water.  Down he came on his back, breaking more of the ice.

A yell, and he was gone below the surface.

And now everybody seemed shouting at once.  A hundred people ran to and fro, shouting out what ought to be done.

“Get a rope!  Run for a doctor!  Bring fence rails!  Telephone for the police!”

That’s the usual way with a crowd, to think up things that others ought to do.

Dick Prescott espied Dave Darrin ahead.  Dropping Laura’s arm without a word, Dick skated swiftly up to Dave, called Darrin, then lightning.  As he worked young Prescott shot out a few hurried orders.

Then another great cry went up.  Dick Prescott was sprinting fast toward the thin ice.  Close to where Fred Ripley had gone down there was another great rent in the ice.

Dick Prescott was “in the freeze,” in quest of his enemy!

CHAPTER XIX