“Do you think it will storm right away?” asked Hal, anxiously.
“Can’t say; but she’s a comin’, all right enough,” assured the storekeeper.
As soon as they were in the open air the boys could perceive a great change in the atmosphere. The sun no longer shone. Everything was gray, and the wind was wailing.
It blew full from the north. When they had left the levee, and were headed for home, it was exactly in their teeth.
It was a gusty, mean wind; sweeping upon them, with naught to interrupt it for miles and miles of ice, it at times almost took them off their feet.
With heads down, and coats closely buttoned, they stanchly pushed on.
Very different was this from the trip out.
“Whew!” gasped Tom, when they paused, after having covered about a mile.
“We’ll do like the geese, when they fly,” proposed Ned. “I’ll go first for fifteen minutes, and break the wind, and then you fellows can take your turns.”
They started, this time in single file, with Ned leading, and Tom next and Hal at the rear, all taking short, choppy strokes together. At the end of fifteen minutes, according to Hal’s watch—which his father had given him instead of a gun—Ned dropped back and Tom came to the front. Hal succeeded to Tom, until it was Ned’s turn again.