Hal clambered to his feet, and the three lamely started again. The stop had stiffened not only Hal, but also the other two, and it required some effort to limber up once more.
The snow increased, coming in blinding squalls. The wind was keen and raw. The boys kept on as before, now swinging their arms, now skating with arms behind the back, and in other ways trying to ease their labor by variety, until soon they were appealed to by Hal to stop again.
“You needn’t lead any more, Hal,” said Ned. “Need he, Tom? We can break the wind, and he can keep behind.”
“Of course,” agreed Tom, stoutly.
But even then poor Hal needed frequent halts; he was doing his best, only his best was not so good as the best of the two others. Tom, also, began to be in distress. As for Ned, his weak ankle burned like fire.
The snow grew thicker, whirling out of the north, and with a wall of white resisting their advance. The ice was covered, so that their skate blades threw up little furrows. Now black ice and milk ice, rough and smooth, looked alike, and over the air-holes was spread a treacherous curtain.
“Come on, Hal! Don’t lie down!” urged Ned.
“I can’t. I’m tuckered!” gasped Hal. “You fellows go ahead, and let me freeze.”
“No, we won’t do any such thing,” declared Ned. “I tell you—we’ll land on Eagle and walk up it as far as we can. Walking will be a change.”
Tom said nothing, but his lips were white.