"That's to tie the shoe to your foot," he explained to Laddie.
In a little while, with his brother's help, Russ had made four of the barrel-stave snowshoes—a pair for himself and a pair for Laddie.
"Now all we have to do," said Russ, "is to tie 'em on and walk out on the snow. We won't sink down in, as we do with our regular feet, and we can go as fast as anything."
"Won't we fall?" asked Laddie.
"We'll hold on to the poles. That's what I got 'em for," said Russ.
In a short time he and his brother had fastened the barrel staves to their shoes, winding and tying the cords and ropes, and even some old straps around and around. Their feet looked very queer—almost like those of some clown in the circus. But Laddie and Russ did not mind that. They wanted to walk on the home-made snowshoes.
"Come on!" called Russ, as he shuffled across the barn floor toward the door, from which led a big stretch of deep, white snow. "Come on, Laddie!"
"I—I can't seem to walk," the little fellow said. "I keep stepping on my feet all the while."
This was very true. As he took one step he would put the other snowshoe down on the one he had moved last, and then he could not raise the underneath foot.
"Spread your legs apart and sort of slide along," said Russ. "Then you won't step on your own feet. Do it this way."