motionless by fright, she had not the presence of mind to jump back to
the larger field. A wave washed in between, separating her by several
feet from the solid ice. The cake she was on began to heave and fall
sickeningly. There was another cracking sound and the edge of the solid
body of ice broke up into dozens of floating cakes, that ground and
pounded each other as the waves set them in motion. Every drop of blood
receded from Migwan's heart as she realized what had happened. She
screamed aloud, once, and then knew the futility of it. Her voice could
not reach to the shore. Lake and sky and horizon line now mocked her
with their silence. The cake of ice, lurching and tipping, began
floating out to sea.

On this wintry afternoon Sahwah left the house in a far different mood
from that which had carried Migwan blindly over the ground. Her eyes
were sparkling with the joy of life and her cheeks were glowing in the
cold. She wore a heavy reefer sweater and a knitted cap. Under her arm
was her latest plaything--a pair of skis. By her side walked Dick
Albright, one of the boys in her class, whom she considered especially
good fun. Dick also had a pair of skis. The two of them were bound for
the park to practice "making descents" from the hillsides. Sahwah was
absolutely happy, and chattered like one of the sparrows that were
flocking on the lawns and streets. Her chief interest in life just now
was the school basketball team, of which she was a member. Soon, very
soon, would come the big game with the Carnegie Mechanics, which would
decide the championship of the city. Sahwah was the star forward for the
Washington High team, and it was no secret that the winning of that game
depended upon her to a great extent. Sahwah was the idol of the
athletically inclined portion of the school. Dick thought there never
was such a player--for a girl.