No Small Victory

by Connie Brummel Crook

  The girls stepped outside into the bright sunshine. Archie was waiting on the bottom step of the stoop.

  “Comin’ to slide?” he asked. His eager, wind-burned face seemed even more freckled than usual.

  Angela looked doubtful. “Mr. McDougall told us to stay away from the river and any frozen water—even marshlands.”

  “Don’t be cowards! If you were all boys, you wouldn’t be afraid of sliding on a silly old pond. I always get stuck doing things with girls. One of these days, I’m really going to join the army, and then I’ll be surrounded by brave men—like Dad was in the War—who aren’t scared of ponds.”

  “Bonnie, won’t you come?” said Marianne. “After all, it’s only that little pond in the field across the road. No one can drown—even if they do fall in. Mr. McDougall really just wants us to stay away from the river.”

  Bonnie hesitated, “Well, I…” She didn’t want to be the first to refuse. And anyway, a slide would be fun—just like Archie said.

  “Oh, all right,” Angela agreed with a cold stare at her brother. “If you have to slide, I guess the pond is safe enough.”

  Bonnie was not far behind Archie when she clambered up on the rail fence across the road, then jumped down onto the field in front of the town hall.

  By the time they reached the pond, half of the school kids were there already, but they were not sliding—just looking everything over. There were a few snow-laden spruce branches from two nearby trees hanging over the ice. From these, the glistening snow was slowly melting and dripping onto the edge of the little pond. The wind had swept the pond clear of snow. It was a great place to slide.

  Even Tom and Slinky were just staring—dazed by the bright sun. Bonnie was puzzled. They were generally the daredevils. So she hesitated. If they didn’t slide, maybe…

  But Archie was already onto the ice and skidding straight across to the other side. Turning around, he shouted, “Jeepers! It’s swell! C’mon, Bonnie.”

  It did look like fun. There was Archie sliding back again. His cheeks were red now and his blond hair was blowing wildly around his face.

  Bonnie stepped onto the pond very carefully, but Archie gave her a big grin as he reached her. So Bonnie did a fast twirl on the ice, and as Archie started across the ice again, Bonnie slid just behind him, her long blue scarf trailing behind her.

  Bonnie and Archie slid smoothly but slowly across to the other side of the pond. Turning to face her, Archie said, “Let’s go again. If we take a run at it, we’ll go faster.”

  So together, they clambered up the bank on the far side and began the fast run.

  On the opposite side, Marianne and Angela were also running toward the pond. “Golly! You can’t have all the fun!” Marianne shouted. She hit the ice and slid, arms wide. Angela was right beside her.

  Archie and Bonnie put on a burst of speed, hoping to whiz past the other two sliders coming in the other direction. Bonnie laughed aloud in anticipation. The ice was smoother and more slippery on this far side of the pond, and she was going like the wind when suddenly, just in front of Archie, it happened.

  Marianne and Angela broke though the ice. They were sinking into the water with chunks of ice floating around them.

  Bonnie and Archie flailed their arms in vain. But they could not stop. They slid over the floating, rubbery ice and splashed down into the big water hole—Archie first and Bonnie, grabbing his shoulders, following after.

  Bonnie gasped as the shock of ice water hit her. Then she was standing in chest-high freezing water!

  “Join…hands!” Angela croaked out between chattering teeth.

  Together, the four victims waded through more breaking ice to the edge of the pond. Above them, on the fence, sat Slinky with a big smile on his face as a small crowd of kids gathered behind him.

  “Looky here, guys—all the teacher’s favourites!” Slinky, uncoiling his tall, lanky body, jumped off the fence and hurried toward the splashing group. “Now you’re in for it!”

  Yet he was looking at them with new respect in his green eyes. From the snow-covered ground, Slinky held out his hand and Angela took it. Then he fished Bonnie, still gasping, out of the water. Marianne and Archie managed to crawl out by themselves.

  “We have to get home before we catch our death of pneumonia. C’mon!” Angela grabbed her brother by the arm. “We’ll take the shortcut over the hill and through the woods. It’ll be faster. The deep snow can’t hurt our clothes, now. We’re a mess already.” Everyone knew they didn’t usually take the shortcut over the winter months. It was a faster but harder trail and it didn’t even pass by Marianne’s house.

  “It’s too far to walk home in this cold!” said one of the kids in the crowd. “C’mon back to school and dry off by the stove.”

  Angela hesitated.

  “Yeah,” another voice piped up. “We want to hear what you’ll say to the teacher!”

  That settled it. They’d been playing on forbidden ground. Angela and Archie ran to the fence and headed down the main road.

  Marianne didn’t wait any longer. “I’m going home,” she said. She ran ahead down the main street.

  Bonnie hesitated a moment. At the other end of town, Marianne would be going by the road that curved to the right while Angela and Archie would go off the main road and take to the hilly path up through their own woods.

  It didn’t take Bonnie long to decide. She couldn’t face going back to school alone and so she headed for home. Anyway, she’d have Marianne with her half the way if she could just catch up. She pelted down the main street of Lang after her friend.

  The ice and water in Bonnie’s boots sloshed and crunched and slowed her down. But she ran without stopping all the way through the village—past the stores, over the bridge, and along the Indian River road.

  She still couldn’t see Marianne. Where had she gone? Maybe she had stopped in at a house along the way. But none of them knew anyone well enough for that. Bonnie tried to run even faster.

  Bonnie raced past the last village house and then rounded the turn in the road where the trees closed in around her. Her feet were heavy but she kept going.

  The snowbanks on either side were deep, but the road itself was clear. She wished she had a shortcut through the woods, like Archie and Angela. But it was all she could do to keep going on the road. She hoped Angela and Archie were all right. Their route up the hill and through the woods was not an easy one.

  Up—down—up—down. Her feet were growing heavier. She’d never go through heavy snowbanks. This was the only route for her.

  Then Bonnie turned another corner in the road and stared in dismay.

  Marianne lay in a crumpled heap in a deep snowbank by the side of the road.

  Bonnie hurried over and grabbed her friend by the arm. “Marianne, what are you doing here?”

  Marianne’s eyes blinked open. “Rest—ing,” she said and laid back in the snow and closed her eyes.

  Bonnie knew she had to act quickly. “No, Marianne! You can’t stop or you’ll freeze.” Her dad had told her about hypothermia when she was reading Heidi—a lot of the story took place in the snowy Alps of Switzerland.

  Marianne started up but sank back again and snuggled deeper into the snowbank. “But…it’s warmer…” She closed her eyes and sprawled out flat on her back—half covered with snow.

  “Get up!” shouted Bonnie. She tugged Marianne by the arm till her eyes flickered open.

  “Ouch! Are you trying to tear my arm off?”

  “No,” said Bonnie. “But you can’t lie there, Marianne. You can’t!”

  But Marianne did not answer. Her eyes were closed again.

  “Marianne, get up! Your body’s tricking you. You just feel warm but you’re actually freezing! Get up!”

  What should she do? Bonnie’s own feet felt frozen to the spot. Could she run ahead to the Hubbs’ house just around another corner, or should she pull Marianne behind her? Would she even be able to do that? Possibly—for though Marianne
was a fighter, she was skinny.

  Bonnie tugged at both of Marianne’s hands and at last pulled her friend to her feet.

  “C’mon!” Bonnie commanded.

  Bonnie pushed Marianne ahead of her and then grabbed the collar of her snowsuit—just in time—before Marianne took a nose dive forward. Bonnie clung to that collar and Marianne’s right hand.

  Finally, Marianne started to pick up one foot at a time. Bonnie held her hand tightly as they moved forward slowly.

  Bonnie’s teeth were chattering, but she kept talking to Marianne as they walked. “We have to get there…just around the corner…just around the corner…just…”

  Step by step, they plodded on.

  Finally, Marianne said, “Almost…almost…” Then the Hubbs’ house came into sight. Turning into the Hubbs’ lane, the girls staggered up to the house.

  Marianne collapsed against the side door and slumped down onto the doorstep.

  Bonnie banged with her icy woollen mitts. Her fingers were too stiff to open the door. Just then, Rover the collie came bounding out of the shed. He whined and licked Marianne’s face.

  At last the door opened. The shocked face of Mrs. Hubbs stared down at them. “Maribelle,” she screamed. “Come! Help!”

  Bonnie stumbled inside onto the polished floor, her boots still on. Mrs. Hubbs and Maribelle dragged Marianne over the doorstep and started pulling off the lifeless girl’s clothes.

  Sitting on the mat struggling to take off her boots, Bonnie heard Marianne’s weak voice. “Mama…I’m home.”

  “Yes, dear, and you’re both going to be just fine. Maribelle, bring blankets.”

  Bonnie sighed with relief.

  Out of her wet clothing and wrapped in a warm blanket, Bonnie was shivering less now, but soon felt pain in her hands and cheeks.

  Maribelle and Marianne’s mother carried the girls over to the couch a little closer to the wood stove but still a few feet away. Marianne was dazed for a while but soon recovered and sat up. Then Maribelle brought in lukewarm washcloths from the kitchen and laid them on the girls’ worst spots.

  “It’s best not to get too close to the fire,” explained Marianne’s mother as she bent over, examining Bonnie’s hands very carefully. “I think there are a few small spots that have been nipped by the frost. They’ll heal. You’ll see, dear.”

  Now, Marianne was groaning a little.

  “My poor child, you were fortunate to have Bonnie drag you home. And how were you so clever, Bonnie, to know about such a thing as hypothermia?”

  “Well, you see, I read this book about Heidi, who lived with her grandfather in the Alps of Switzerland. They had to be careful, too.”

  “Well, we’re very grateful. You have saved Marianne’s life.”

  “Oh, she would have gotten up anyway.”

  “Well, we’ll never know.”

  “I feel fine now,” said Bonnie, though she was still shivering a little. “I better start home. I don’t want to be late.”

  “Nonsense, child. It’s only noon now. If I can get through on our phone line, I’ll ring your mother to tell her you’re here and safe. Maybe the Johnsons phoned her. We wouldn’t want her setting out for you when you’re just fine.”

  Bonnie nodded gratefully.

  “After I phone your mother, I’m going to make some warm soup for you girls. Goodness, child! I wouldn’t dream of letting you walk home. My husband will harness the horse and take you in our best cutter.” Then she turned to Maribelle. “Go find some of Marianne’s dry clothes for Bonnie. She can’t go home in a blanket.”

  Bonnie knew her clothes would be returned the next day in shipshape—all washed, starched, and ironed.

  Two hours later, Mrs. Hubbs, Marianne, and Maribelle all were waving from the window as Mr. Hubbs tucked the buffalo robe around Bonnie on the cutter seat beside him and set off. Bonnie waved back, and then as the cutter swept smoothly along, she kept wondering how she was going to explain all this to Mum. Mrs. Hubbs had not been able to get through to her, for the party line had been busy the whole time. Bonnie knew she’d have to confess every detail—even about their teacher telling them not to slide there.

  Then Marianne’s father cleared his throat and smiled down at the small form huddled in the big buffalo robe beside him. He was a small man but he looked big in his muskrat coat and hat. Bonnie looked up at him shyly.

  “Don’t worry, Bonnie,” he said. “I’m going to explain to your parents how brave you’ve been this day and how you saved our Marianne.”

  Bonnie smiled. Now, she wasn’t as worried. He’d called her brave. So maybe, Mum might think of this as another small victory. She sure hoped so. Nevertheless, she’d not be sliding on any ponds again soon!

  TWELVE: BACK INTO THE COLD

  After the warm, sunny day of the pond incident, a fierce wind began to blow, bringing more snow and constant cold for the next month. March had certainly come in like a lion, but would it go out like a lamb? Everyone quoted the rhyme, but as the snowfall continued, no one believed it.

  Bonnie stared bleakly at the swirling whiteness outside the kitchen window. She could not believe how high the snow had grown in the field in front of the house. The zigzag pathway to the main road was like a snowploughed tunnel. As she turned away from the window, she heard her father stamping snow from his boots in the back shed.

  Snow still clung to the bottom of Dad’s heavy overalls and the cuffs of his red flannel shirt. His whole face was red with cold, and he even brushed snow from his eyebrows as he placed his knitted toque and mitts near the stove.

  “You should have brought in your coat and boots,” said Mum. “You don’t want to take a chill, Thomas.” She went into the back shed and brought his coat in, then pulled a chair over to the stove and flopped the big woolly coat over the back of the chair. Then she swung around and scooped a heaping bowl of hot oatmeal porridge from the stove. “Here you are. This’ll warm your bones.”

  After Dad gave thanks to God for the food, he looked over at Bonnie. “I think you’d better stay home from school today. It’s too blustery outside and it could get worse.”

  “Oh no!” Bonnie protested. “I can’t miss school. I have a geography test today. I can’t miss it. I can’t. Please, Dad. Please, please, please take me to school.”

  Dad smiled over at Mum. “By George! Did you ever in your life see such a child? Most kids would want the occasional day off. But not this one! I can’t understand it.”

  Mum smiled too. “Well, it’s a good thing she does well in school, for I can’t teach her a thing around the house. She takes no interest at all.”

  Bonnie sighed. Why did her mother have to bring this up now?

  “I’m giving up teaching her to quilt,” Mum went on. “She can’t thread a needle, to start with. Then after I’ve threaded it for her, she pushes it up through the quilt—right into her finger. I can’t understand how any child of mine can be so clumsy.”

  “But, Mum, I’m going to be a teacher when I grow up. I want to be a really, really good teacher. I’ll help lots of pupils take two years in one! I don’t want to be a house—”

  Brrr-iiing! Brrr-brrr! A long and two shorts. Thank goodness—it was their ring. Mum flew over to the phone and took up the receiver. “Hello!” she said. “…Yes, Thomas is taking her to school…. Of course, he’ll take them, too. Just a minute till I find out when he’s leaving.”

  Mum turned to Dad. “The Danford children are wondering if they could have a ride with you if you’re taking Bonnie to school. They say they have to go to Lang this afternoon and will bring Bonnie home with them.”

  “The Danfords? The new family that moved in next to the Stevenses’?”

  “Yes, the ones with the little girl named Grace. They say they’ll walk here.”

  “Tell them I have to go that way anyway, since the west lane is plugged solid. It’ll take me about ten minutes to hitch the horses. So we can meet at the main road by our mailbox. If they start out in ten min
utes, we’ll meet there about the same time.”

  Mum repeated Dad’s message as Dad hurried outside to get the horses. Then Mum started winding scarves around Bonnie’s neck. There were only three scarves—a yellow one and a red one on top of Bonnie’s usual blue one—but it felt like twenty. Hardly anything of Bonnie showed outside the snowsuit, toques, and scarves. Bound up in all those clothes, she waddled out the front door and struggled up into the sleigh beside Dad. Then she quickly got over onto the big sleigh box behind the front seat. Back there, she was protected from the wind.

  As the sleigh headed straight across the field to the road, Bonnie nestled down into the straw Dad had piled there. Bonnie still felt cold but, just in time, Dad picked up a thick, old, black buffalo robe with a red lining from underneath his seat and, turning around, quickly flung it over Bonnie. Then off they went again with the horses’ reins jingling.

  Even across the field, the sleigh bounced up and down as they headed over the large, uneven snowbanks. Bonnie peeked out from underneath the buffalo robe. All she could see was the blistering white snow, so she ducked back under the robe, content to let her father steer the horses through the blizzard. It was warm down there; so she pulled the scarf off her mouth and nose. Breathing was easier.

  In a short time, the horses came to a stop. The Danford children—two older boys and their young sister, Grace—hopped into the sleigh. Grace was only in Grade One but she looked even younger. She was shaking with the cold.

  “C’mon under the robe with me,” Bonnie called. The little girl crawled right in. Her cheeks were bright red with windburn and frozen tears. “You’ll get nice and warm under here. You’ll see,” Bonnie said. They both lay on their stomachs in the straw. Their heads were raised slightly and their breath mingled and warmed the small air space under the buffalo robe.

  “Gee, there!…Haw, I say, haw…You can make it…. Haw! Haw!” The girls caught only fragments of the commands as Dad directed the horses right and left. But they could feel every jerk, pitch, and sway of the sleigh.