In spots the ice was so smooth that they flitted over it with a velvety, rocking sensation; in others it was of coarser grain, through which their steel “zipped” only slightly less easily. In others it was rough enough to make the blades clatter.
But all the time the trees and bushes of the shore spun by as when viewed from the windows of a railroad train.
Now the ice was black and clear so that in shoal spots one could descry the sand beneath. Now it was dense and milky. To glide suddenly from the white ice upon the black was apt to give one a shock, for the black looked like water.
Zigzagging upon their course, trying to select the better ice, and ever keeping their eyes fixed before them in order to avoid air-holes, the boys, at times in close file and at times considerably separated, skated at full speed.
Gradually they cut away from the island side, and when they had reached the foot of Eagle they were far out, toward the shore of the mainland, opposite. Such a thing as slackening to rest never occurred to them. The miles fell behind with no effort; in fact, the pace was so blissful that the boys hardly cared to break the charm by talking, and only risked an occasional, “Isn’t this bully, though!” when they skimmed across a particularly glossy patch.
With the island out of the road, here the river was again a mile wide—a vast sheet of ice, with a few narrow strips of sparkling blue which denoted areas that never froze over.
The shore line bent inward, slightly, and looking down the mighty curve the boys could already see Newton, the clustered houses forming the background to a sandy sprit.
“I’ll stump you not to stop once till we get there,” challenged Hal to his companions.
“All right,” agreed Tom. “I could keep this up all day.”
“So could I,” asserted Ned, although his ankle, not so strong as it was before the sprain, protested that it couldn’t.