“Yah-h-h-h-h-h!” called Sandy tauntingly, “want a tow-line?”
Sandy gave a loud laugh as, elated at his easy escape from his irritated chum, he gave a fancy exhibition of figure-making, and at its conclusion skimmed off again just as Jack’s fingers seemed about to close on his tormentor’s shoulder.
“I’ll wash your face in the snow when I catch you! Just you see if I don’t!” shrilly threatened Jack.
A laugh from Sandy was the only answer as he shot off under full steam. He turned his head to show his perfect command of the fine points of skating. A broad grin was on his freckled countenance.
“Catch me first, Jack! I’ll bet you——”
“Hi! Look out!” roared Tom.
But his warning came just about the same instant that Sandy, skimming at full speed over the ice near the Yukon Rover’s hull, gave a howl of dismay as he felt the ice give way under him.
The next instant he vanished from view as the thin ice—merely a skimming over the hole chopped early that day to get drinking water out of the river—broke under his weight.
Jack, close on his heels, had just enough warning to swing aside. The last they saw of Sandy MacTavish was two hands upheld above the water as he vanished from view.
Then he disappeared totally.