Swiftly seven figures sped over the snow, while at a little distance came Piper and his friends, uttering loud calls for them to stop and take their medicine.
"Nice, pleasant evening," observed Nat, for the second time.
"Oh, ho," panted Dave, "society in the wilderness—social calls seem somewhat dangerous."
"Hello! Got discouraged pretty quick, eh?" put in Nat, looking over his shoulder.
The three young men had stopped, then began to retrace their steps. Seeing this, the boys slowed up, and, breathing hard, reached the edge of the lake.
"They're coming out again, fellows," exclaimed Sam Randall hastily, "and making this way, too."
Hackett's face began to darken. "We're seven," he exclaimed, in an angry tone. "Let's stand up to them."
"Oh, ho—might be better to avoid trouble, if possible," put in Dave Brandon. "Wait 'til they get in a more reasonable frame of mind."
Swiftly the boys began to cut over the icy surface. The moon had risen far above the hills, casting a silvery light over the broad, greenish expanse of lake, and touching the snow-drifts with sharp, glinting rays.
Glancing over their shoulders, the boys saw the dark forms of the pursuers coming steadily on.