So quickly this crust deepened and toughened, that soon an ice bridge had been staked out, and teams were crossing from shore to shore.
The work of freezing had been done very quietly. On this account the Mississippi was now like glass. All Beaufort went skating. The field was unlimited, save as in the swiftest parts of the current the water continued to show, sullen and black.
“We’re going to skate down to Newton next Saturday,” declared Ned, confidently.
“It’s good of you to tell us,” remarked his father, mildly.
Ned was puzzled. He was not exactly sure what the tone of voice meant.
“Well, can’t I?” he inquired.
“That is a problem,” replied his father, bent upon teasing. “But I should think that a boy who not an hour ago declared himself unequal to the task of filling up two coal stoves might find considerable difficulty.”
“Oh, pshaw!” pouted Ned, the hit telling. “I mean, may I?”
“Just as your mother says,” answered his father. “We’ll leave it to her.”
Ned’s face did not express any great joy over this condition upon his going. He knew so well what an amount of convincing his mother, always timid, winter or summer, about the river, would take. Nevertheless, he went boldly at his task.