"Your folks will likely be worried about you," said Uncle Jack, "so I'll get you home as fast as I can, though my horse isn't very speedy. He's getting old, like myself."
"You don't look old," said Flossie kindly.
"Well, I am. I'm old and full of pains and aches."
"Have you got a stomachache?" asked Flossie. "If you have my mother could give you some peppermint."
"My pain is in my bones and back; peppermint isn't much good for that. I guess I need to go to a hospital. But never mind me, I must look after you children now."
Along through the snow jogged the woodcutter's horse, his bells jingling as he hauled the sled over the road that led along the shore of the lake.
"What'll we do about Bert's ice-boat?" asked Flossie.
"I'll look after it until he comes for it," said Uncle Jack. "It isn't damaged any, and it will be all right. Few folks come down to this end of the lake in Winter. I have it all to myself."
"You must be lonesome," remarked Freddie.
"I am, sometimes. Often I wish I had folks, like other men. But it isn't to be, I reckon. G'lang there, Bucksaw."