“You’ve got to!” yelled Jack. “We’re going like greased lightning!”
But, try as Nat and Sam did, they could not force the newly-sharpened stakes into the ground. Jack, Bony and Will added their strength, but it was of no use.
Faster and faster the sled leaped down the slope. The wind cut the faces of the boys, and the flying particles of snow, freed by the edges of the runners, stung them like needles.
“We can’t stop!” said Nat, hopelessly.
Straight as an arrow flew the sled.
“Look! Look!” cried Will, and he pointed ahead.
There, right in the path, and not a quarter of a mile away, at the foot of the hill down which they were shooting like a rocket, was a patch of blackness.
“It’s a lake! A lake of open water!” cried Jack. “Get ready to jump!”