They sat on a rotted log beside the river and put on their skates. It was a cold job, and more than once they paused to blow on chilled fingers. But at last the skates were adjusted and the campers were ready to swing up the river toward Lake Arrowtip. They clumped down the side of the bank and slid out on the ice, cutting a few circles by way of warming up. Kent hooked the rope of the sled to the belt of his Mackinaw.
“I guess we’re about ready,” he nodded, and with a ringing sound the runners of the skates slid forward and they were away on their journey upriver.
For over a mile they kept up a fast pace and then moderated it somewhat, settling down to an even gait that would take them a long way from home if maintained for any length of time. They passed a few skaters and one group of high school boys in particular, with whom they paused to chat. From them they gleaned the information that Carter Wolf and some of his friends had started on their trip, going in a roundabout way by motor truck.
“They’ll find it a rough journey over any of these roads to Lake Arrowtip,” Barry commented, as they resumed their skating.
“I’d rather go this way or even to hike it,” Kent nodded.
“I guess Wolf would rather go the most comfortable way,” Mac observed. “I’ll bet the truck was heated in some way. I’m even surprised that Wolf will go camping in the winter time.”
Leaving Cloverfield far behind them, the boys followed the little river into the deep woods. In the forest the stream became narrower, but there was room for all of them, and they had gone seven miles before it became necessary to leave the ice sheet and take to the shore. They came at last to a place where a log was frozen broadside into the ice and a mass of refuse spoiled the smooth, glassy surface.
“First detour,” sang out Barry. “What do you say we hike some and see if we can bring down a rabbit?”
The others were agreeable, and they took to the shore. The trees were sufficiently far back from the banks to allow them to proceed. Pulling the sled was harder, and Barry relieved Kent of it. They tramped along, and just before noon Mac took a shot at a squirrel, but missed.
“Bum shot,” he exclaimed, in disgust.