It was after one o’clock when Hammerstone was reached. It being an hour later than they had anticipated, it was decided that they should procure a lunch to eat on the iceboat instead of stopping off for a meal. Jack procured the stuff—sandwiches and a big mince pie—and soon they were on the way to Rudd’s Landing, their stopping place for the night.
By four o’clock Jack calculated that they had traveled three-quarters of the distance from Rudskill.
“And if the wind holds out, we’ll be in Rudd’s Landing by seven or half-past,” he said.
By five o’clock it began to grow both darker and colder. A little later the wind died down somewhat, although it still blew sufficiently strong to keep them spinning on their course.
“Gosh! a cup of coffee wouldn’t go bad!” exclaimed Andy, who was taking it easy beside Harry, in the stern. “I’m pretty well chilled.”
“It won’t be long before we’re there, now,” replied his brother. “You can see the lights away ahead of us.”
On they went through the semi-darkness, for another half mile. They were now approaching a spot where a side creek of considerable dimensions flowed into the river.
Suddenly Pickles, who was in the bow on watch, uttered a cry of terror.
“Turn de boat around!” he screamed. “We is runin’ into de open watah!”
The others sprang up and gazed ahead. It was true; the Icicle was making directly for a wide opening in the ice, scarcely a hundred yards ahead!