"Oh, how can you make fun, when we may—when we may—may slip off any minute?" protested Grace, half tearfully. "Oh, why did we come out in this ice boat?"
"Now look here!" and Betty spoke sharply. "Isn't it a good deal better to be jolly than glum? Of course it is. And we're in no immediate danger. As Mollie says, we may be thankful we are not on a small cake of ice. This will hold us nicely."
"But we're floating down the stream," said Amy.
"Of course we are," agreed Betty cheerfully. "A river never stands still, you know. We are floating down with the rest of the cakes. Pretty soon there will be an ice jam, and——"
"Oh, don't say that!" begged Grace. "An ice jam! That's one of those terrible things where so many persons are killed."
"Nonsense! You're thinking of an avalanche!" declared Mollie. "Betty means that the cakes of ice will all jam together pretty soon, when the river narrows, and we can walk ashore as nicely as you please, hauling the ice boat after us."
"Why can't we go ashore in that?" asked Amy, her face brightening.
"Because it will be so—humpy!" explained Betty. "We could not run the auto ice boat over the bumps. But really it might be worse; I'm not fooling."
Their situation was indeed peculiarly fortunate considering what had happened. The warm weather had softened the ice, and the melting of much snow had caused the river to rise. This had had the effect of cracking the covering of ice, and it had broken up. The ice boat got on a certain large section that split off and went floating down stream.
"Well, let's get out and see what we can do," proposed Mollie, as she left her place near the motor.