It was nearly a mile to the other end of the pond, and the last group of skaters had disappeared over the brow of the hill.
"You must think quickly," she said to herself.
Her eyes took in the other shore.

Not a soul was there, not a dwelling of any sort; nothing but the great ice house that stood like a lonely sentinel on the bank.

Yet something seemed to tell her that help lay in that direction.
Once before, in a moment of danger, Grace had obeyed this same impulse and had never regretted it.

Once again she was following the instinct that might have seemed to another person anything but wise.
Skating as she had never skated before, Grace Harlowe reached the shore in a moment.

Here, dropping to the bank, she quickly removed her skates, then ran toward the ice house, feeling strangely unaccustomed to walking on the ground after her long morning on skates.
"What if I am off on a wild-goose chase ?" she said to herself.