“Here’s a good place, boys,” called the leader. “Lanky, unhook the axe and do some champion ice-cutting.”
“This axe doesn’t fit my hand,” muttered Lanky.
After the laugh was over he started cutting, laying out a two-foot square, and in a very few minutes the boys had the block of ice out on the surface, the waters of the lake exposed to view. Then one of their lines baited quickly went in.
The sun was well up in the east by this time, and it was the observant Frank who noticed that a shadow was cast across the opening by the boys who were standing on the eastward side of the hole. Their attention was called to this, whereupon they moved around to the opposite side.
Their experience the day previous had been that an immediate bite came, but this morning it did not happen. No fish seemed in a mood to try for its breakfast just yet.
“Maybe they’re not out of bed, yet,” said Lanky.
After a few minutes the boys decided to move farther back from the hole. This they did, dropping back a full twenty-five feet.
In doing so, Buster’s line became tangled with one of the others, and he ran forward to take out the tangle. The other boys were laughing and joking at the time, and did not notice what was happening.
Without any warning, and, so far as they could afterward see, without any reason, the ice at the hole suddenly cracked, parted from the main body, and Buster went feet first into the lake, the four lines tangling about his body and feet as he fell.
A cry went up from Buster as he struck the freezing cold water, and all three of his companions darted forward in a flash, but stopped quickly again as they saw how large was the piece which had severed from the main body of ice.