“That would be much easier than walking.”
“Yo’ can skate ober all right,” replied Pickles. “De wind has dun kept mos’ ob it cl’ar, ’ceptin’ in spots.”
“Oh, but this is fine fish!” cried Boxy. “Pickles, you mustn’t forget that you promised to show me how to spear them.”
“So I will, when we gits ober to de reg’lar camp,” replied the colored youth, smiling broadly at the praise bestowed.
By quarter-past eight they put out the fire, placed the last of the things on the sled, and set out. Down on the surface of the lake they found a cold wind blowing from the northwest, and the snowflakes appeared to be thicker than ever.
CHAPTER XV.
LOST IN THE SNOW.
As they had done the day previous, they took turns in drawing the sled, which, fortunately, rode over the surface of the ice easily.
Pickles was the first to try a hand. Jack and Harry went on ahead, while Andy and Boxy came close behind the traps.
All of the boys had their collars turned high up and their caps pulled well down. Yet the snow crept in, and more than once they could scarcely see ahead of them.
“It’s not going to be such a bang-up, pleasant trip across, to my way of thinking,” remarked Jack. “The snow is coming down heavier every minute.”