"I hope the lunch isn't spoiled," remarked Grace. "I'm hungry."
"So am I," was the general admission.
A few miles farther on they came to a sheltered cove where they stopped and ate dinner. They made hot chocolate over a little fire of driftwood on shore.
Then they kept on up the river, the wind holding good, and about three o'clock reached the lumber camp. Allen sent the ice boat up to the little dock in proper style, and one after another the young people leaped out.
"Whoop!" yelled Will. "Here we are! Whoop!"
"Be still, you—Indian!" begged Grace.
"Indians always whoop," he said. "I want to let Franklin know we're here!"
From one of the cabins, clustered in the wood, a short distance back from the shore of the frozen river, came a grizzled but pleasant-faced man. In the doorway stood a short, stout woman, smiling a welcome.
"Well, you got here, I see," remarked Mr. Franklin, genially, as he took two suitcases. "Mother and I've been expecting you, and we've got a hot supper all ready but putting on the table."
"Oh, that was too much work, though it's lovely of you!" protested Grace.