"Now," said Mr. Chalker, "two of you get out the bob-sled, and heap on plenty of sticks from the wood-pile. Be sure and get some big ones; and you, Berton, go down to Mr. Sampson, the miller, with this note. He will let you have some lines, and a few minnows for bait."
When the school-house had been properly locked up, and they had started, dragging the sled after them, it occurred to Ben to suggest a slide. So all three got upon the wood, and slid away merrily toward the pond. The road was steep but straight, though near the bottom there was a sharp curve, where the wind had blown away the snow, leaving a crust of smooth ice. Over this they sped at a lively pace, Ben steering. Poor Ben couldn't turn the corner, and in another second the sled, school-master, and all plunged into the depths of a big drift. Nothing was to be seen of Mr. Chalker for a moment but his heels; but he shortly emerged, puffing and laughing heartily, much to the boys' relief, who had begun to think the fun was all over. But Mr. Chalker shook himself, and declared he enjoyed it, and was ready to try it over; in fact, he didn't act a bit like a school-master, but just like a boy let loose—a very old boy, to be sure, but a very hearty one, for all that.
It only required a few minutes to cut a couple of round holes in the ice, and to build a roaring fire upon a platform of heavy sticks and flat stones—a fire that flung its forked tongues into the keen air in merry defiance of the Frost King and all his servants.
The half-dozen boys already on the pond viewed these preparations with considerable wonder; but gathering courage, finally skated up and warmed their fingers at the fire.
Then somewhat more than a dozen other boys looked out from the windows of the houses scattered along the hill-side, and said something like this: "Mother, I guess there ain't any school to-day; I don't see any smoke comin' out of the chimney. Can't I go down to the pond?"
And an equal number of mothers replied: "Why, of course not. It's much too cold for you to go out. You said so yourself, and, besides, you don't feel very well."
"There's lots of the boys on the pond, mother, an' the skating's splendid. I don't feel so badly now. Can't I go? I won't stay long. I think you might let—"
Upon which all the mothers said, in effect, "Well, do go along; but mind you don't get into any air-holes."
Thus, before an hour had passed, nearly all of the boys in the school were gliding over the pond, or gathered in the group watching Mr. Chalker and his fishing party.
Meanwhile the school-master and Ben had enjoyed remarkable luck. Four fine pickerel lay on the ice, and a fifth (much the biggest ever seen in the pond, of course) had been lost by Ben in pulling him up.