“Who would have taken her?” questioned Boxy, after running out on the frozen river and looking up and down anxiously.
“Maybe some tramps,” suggested Andy. “I saw several of them hanging around yesterday.”
“I saw those tramps, too,” returned Harry. “It would be just like them, if they wanted to go to some other place on the river.”
“It’s a real shame!” muttered Jack. “Our trip spoiled at the very start.”
“If we only knew in what direction the boat had gone we might go after her,” said Andy. “Our skates are on the sled, you know.”
“That’s the ticket!” burst out Boxy. “Give me my skates without delay. It’s ten to one they went off this morning, and so they can’t be very far away.”
“I have an idea,” said Jack. “Supposing two of us skate up the river, and two down, on the lookout? We’ll go, say three or four miles, and if we don’t see anything we can return here.”
“All right,” returned Harry. “We can’t afford to let anybody run off with the Icicle.”
While the boys were talking over this plan in an excited way, and getting out their skates and putting them on, the well-known figure of Pickles Johnsing appeared in sight. The colored youth was running as fast as his short, fat legs would permit.
“Mos’ dun missed yo’!” he gasped. “An’ I made up my mind to see yo’ off, suah!”