From River Street a path had been made down to the shore. It was an easy slant and the runners of the sleigh fairly pushed the horses on their haunches.
“Easy, boys! now we have it!” cried the sheriff, coaxingly. He handled the colts as though he loved them, and they tossed their heads, and pricked their ears forward, and seemed to know that he would let them out in a minute and give them a chance to show their mettle.
Their shoes had just been sharpened, and when they clattered out upon the clear ice they left little marks every time their dancing hoofs landed.
That did not seem to be often, at the pace they took when first Mr. Kimball let them out. They whipped the sleigh behind them as though it was of a feather’s weight. The two little lamps—one set at each side of the dash—sent twinkling, narrow rays of yellow light along the ice, glistening on each little imperfection. It seemed as though where the light fell a trail of stardust had been laid.
But there were no other lights upon the ice. With the keen wind blowing stronger, none of the boats were out from the Boat Club cove where all but the Speedwells’ craft were kept. And there were few skaters out on the river to-night.
For several miles—until they had swung past the lower end of Island Number One, indeed—Mr. Kimball had no chance for much talk. The girls were delighted with the drive now.
“It’s almost as good as being on the boys’ ice yacht,” declared Lettie.
“And now, what about the Speedwells and this Steinforth counterfeiting gang, Kimball?” demanded Mr. Parker, laying a hand upon the sheriff’s arm.