It had all been planned. They were to skate to the Dip—a short distance up the river—and then return to spend the rest of the evening at the Curve, skating by the light of the fire.
At the Dip they rested a few moments, then started down the river, hand in hand, sixteen abreast. They skated fast, and for the most part silently, needing all their breath to maintain the steady motion.
"I wonder how the old Curve will look under fire?" said Clarence Bemen at last, to Ralph, who was at his right, working hard to keep up with his companions.
They were fast approaching the starting-place.
"We are almost there," said Ralph, breathlessly. "That's all I care about."
They could catch a faint glimmer thrown out from the fire over the ice directly in front. The boys, in their excitement, grasped hands tightly as with a long sweep they went round the point of land into the Curve.
But what do they see? They all stop suddenly, for on the bank in the full light of the fire was the figure of a man, tall and slight, and in military dress. A coat with broad rolling collar and with epaulettes on the shoulders was held together by three large buttons; the trousers were short, and met at the knee by high boots with flaring tops. The man wore a powdered wig, surmounted by a three-cornered hat. At his side was a sword, sheathed.
The skaters were too astonished to move forward or say a word. But at last Ralph, whose mind always moved faster than his body, said, emphatically,
"GEORGE WASHINGTON! AS TRUE AS I LIVE."