He had quickly realised that they were in peril, but he would not let Carolyn May see that he was frightened—no, indeed! But he had to give up trying to make Prince sit on the sled.
“He’ll just have to run. He can do it in this snow,” said Chet. “I declare! he can get along better than I can. I guess I’d better take off my skates.”
“I’ll hold ’em for you, Chet,” Carolyn May cried, laughing. “My! doesn’t this snow slap you hard?”
The boy unstrapped the skates swiftly. He had a very good reason for removing them. If the ice was breaking up into floes, he might skate right off into the water, being unable to halt quickly enough, if on the steel runners.
He now plodded on, head down, dragging the sled and the child, with Prince slipping and scratching along beside them.
Suddenly he came to open water. It was so broad a channel that he could not hope to leap it; and, of course, he could not get the sled and the little girl across.
“My!” cried Carolyn May, “that place wasn’t here when we came out, was it, Chet? It must have just come here.”
“I don’t think it was here before,” admitted the boy.
“Or maybe you’re not going back the way you came?” suggested the little girl. “Are you sure you’re going the right way home?”
Chet really was doubtful of his direction. He believed that the wind was blowing directly down the cove, but it might have shifted. The thickly falling snow blinded and confused him.