"I know how," he shouted. "There's no help for it. I must strike right out."
So he did, and his first slide carried him nearly a rod on that one skate before he could get the other one down. He did that, however, and it worked finely, for he had been a good skater when he was a young man. He had kept hold of the rope-handle of the sled, and it was following him. That is, when he struck out with a foot he swung his long arms too, and the sled swung around on the ice as if it was half crazy.
"What can be the matter with my ankles?" he said to himself. "They used to be good ankles."
No doubt; but then the last time he had skated before that, they had not had so much to carry.
"Billy," exclaimed Joe Pearce, "Uncle Josh is agoing!"
"How he does go! Ain't I glad it's thick ice!"
"Let's go. Come on, boys."
Other eyes than theirs had been watching Uncle Josh, for everybody knew him, and nobody had ever seen him skate, and Joe and Billy were followed by almost all the boys on the pond.
"Hurrah for Uncle Josh!"
"Can't he skate, though!"