“Stop her, somebody! We will all be drowned!” See page [74].

Tour of the Zero Club

OR
Adventures Amid Ice and Snow

BY
CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL
AUTHOR OF
“Neka, the Boy Conjuror,” “For the Liberty of Texas,”
“Boys of the Fort,” etc.

NEW YORK AND LONDON
STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1902
By STREET & SMITH

Tour of the Zero Club

CONTENTS.

TOUR OF THE ZERO CLUB.

CHAPTER I.
ON THE TOBOGGAN-SLIDE.

“All ready?”

“All ready!”

“Then here we go! Hold on, everybody, unless you want to be sent flying when we reach the curve!”

As Harry Webb uttered the last words he gave his long toboggan, the Buster, a final shove, and hopped on behind his three companions, and away they started on the trip down Doublehead Hill.

It was a stirring scene. The upper and lower hills, although light in the full moon, were made doubly bright by the scores of bonfires and pine torches which blazed on either side of the narrow toboggan-slide.

Scores of boys and girls were out, and not a few ladies and gentlemen also, and all looked warm and happy in their gayly-colored toboggan suits.

The long, low sleds were out by the dozens, and Jack Bascoe, who was steering the Buster as best he could, had a difficult time of it, keeping clear of dangerous collisions.

“By jingo! but this is fine!” cried Andy Bascoe, Jack’s younger brother. “Who would want better sport than this?”

“You’re right, it’s fine!” returned Boxy Woodruff, the most light-hearted boy in Rudskill. “A fellow would like to keep sailing like this forever, eh? Just spread out your arms and—wow!”

Boxy’s imitation of flying came to a sudden stop as the toboggan shot over a little hill and came down with a thump on the other side. He was thrown a bit to one side, and only saved himself by grasping Jack Bascoe around the middle with both arms.

“Hold on, Boxy!” cried Jack, a little alarmed.

“That’s what I’m doing,” returned Boxy.

“I feel you,” said Jack, grimly. “But don’t pull me off, please. I’ve got to keep my eyes open for the other toboggans and sleds, you know.”

“I’m all right now, and I’ll do my flying act some other time,” returned Boxy.

“Here comes the Whistler!” cried Harry. “We ought to be able to beat Pete Sully’s toboggan.”

“Of course!” added Andy.

“Everybody push!” put in Boxy, in a dry way that made them all laugh. “Maybe you would like me to get off and help pull,” he added, in mock seriousness.

As they were going at a speed little less than a mile a minute down the long hill, the others laughed louder than ever.

The Whistler, with Pete Sully, the bully of the town, and several of his chums, was creeping up by their side. It was a brand-new toboggan, and slid along as though greased.

“You fellows ain’t in it any more!” shouted Sully to Harry, as he came within speaking distance. “Here’s where we leave you away behind!”

“You’ve got more weight!” returned Harry. “Give me the same weight, and the Buster will walk away from you with ease.”

“I’ll bet you a dollar you can’t!” shouted Sully.

“I haven’t got a dollar to bet, Pete,” replied Harry, and he told the truth, for, although he owned the Buster, Harry Webb was poor, and had not known what it was to own a dollar for several years, ever since his father had lost his money in an unfortunate real estate speculation.

“Oh, you’re afraid to bet,” cried Sully, mockingly. “Good-by, slow boots!”

“I’ll bet my pocket-knife against yours we can beat you!” said Harry, considerably nettled by Sully’s taunts. “We will take the same number aboard and try our skill.”

“Done!” yelled Sully, for he was now several rods ahead.

Down the last of the second hill and along the level road shot the Buster, and presently came to a standstill just where the Rudskill turnpike branched off across the railroad tracks. The Whistler had gone on a couple of hundred feet farther up the side of the tracks.

“Told you we’d beat you!” exclaimed Pete Sully, as he and his chums joined Harry and his friends. “You had better not bet your pocket-knife unless you want to lose it.”

“I am not afraid to try against you, Sully, and perhaps it will be you who will lose his pocket-knife.”

“Humph!” sneered Sully. “No fear. And if I did, I guess I could buy another easy enough, even if somebody else couldn’t.”

This was a direct shot at Harry’s poverty, and made the ears of the poor boy tingle, while his handsome face flushed.

“Come on and try your skill and quit your talking,” exclaimed Jack Bascoe, rather sharply, and he faced Sully as he spoke. “There is no use in wasting time here.”

Had it been any one else than Jack Bascoe who had spoken thus suggestively to him, Pete Sully might have picked a quarrel then and there. He was a very overbearing boy, and never allowed a chance of whipping some other boy go by him.

But the truth of the matter was, that he had once run up against Jack’s fist in a most surprising fashion. Blood had flowed freely, and from that time on the bully of Rudskill knew there were two boys in the town he dare not molest, Jack and his younger brother, Andy.

So, muttering something under his breath which Harry and his friends could not hear, Sully and his cohorts began to drag their toboggan up the long hillside. They were followed by the other boys, with the Buster. The walk was a tedious one, especially so to the two sides that wished to race each other.

“Whom shall we get to add weight?” asked Harry, as they at last gained the starting-place. “I don’t see any of our crowd here; do you?”

“I don’t,” returned Jack.

“What’s the matter with Pickles Johnsing?” put in Boxy. “He’s got enough weight for two.”

Pickles Johnsing was a stout, round-faced colored boy, with big red lips, and teeth which reminded one very forcibly of double-blank dominoes set in twin rows. He was a very willing and decent sort of a young darky, and had many friends in the little river town in which my story for the present is located.

“He’ll do first-rate,” said Harry. “Hello, Pickles!” he shouted.

“Hullo, dar, Harry!” returned the colored boy. “Got yo’ tobog out ag’in, I see.”

“Yes, Pickles, and we want you to ride down with us this trip. Put your bread-shovel out of the way.”

“T’anks, Harry, I’se like to ride down on de Buster fust-rate,” grinned Pickles. “Wot yo’ gwine ter do, race Pete Sully?”

“Yes, Pickles, and we must beat him,” replied Andy. “You know just how to help us along.”

“Humph! if he ain’t going to take that coon on the trip!” sneered Pete Sully.

“You ain’t racing niggers, are you, Pete?” questioned one of his followers.

“I don’t know as I am,” returned Pete Sully, slowly.

He walked over to where Harry sat on his toboggan.

“I expected to race white fellows,” he remarked, sourly.

“Pickles is all right,” said Jack Bascoe. “He’s the dark horse to win. If you are going to race, get ready, for Harry isn’t going to wait all night for you.”

“Where’s that knife!” demanded Sully, thus changing the subject.

“Here it is,” replied Harry, producing it. “Four blades, and every one in good condition. Where is yours?”

“It’s just as good as that,” retorted Sully, bringing forth his pocket-knife. “Four blades and a corkscrew.”

“Who’s going to hold them as stakes?” questioned Bill Dixon, Sully’s most intimate chum.

The matter was talked over for several minutes, and finally a gentleman who had come to the hill to look at the sport agreed to become stakeholder.

Before the matter was decided, however, Sully did a good deal of whispering to Bill Dixon, who immediately left the crowd, which had moved over to the largest of the nearby campfires.

At last all was in readiness for the start. Hearing of the race, many on the course left their toboggans and sleds to witness the contest.

“Now, remember, the first to reach the railroad track switch wins the race,” shouted the stakeholder. “Are you ready?”

“We are,” said Sully.

“Then—go!”

With a great push, Sully sent the Whistler on the downward course in fine style. Harry likewise gave the Buster a good shove, and his toboggan also started. But he was a rod behind the other sled in the fraction of a second.

“Something is dragging under us!” cried Andy, quickly. “I can feel it plainly.”

“What can it be?” exclaimed Harry, in alarm. “Anybody’s clothing caught?”

“My clo’ all hunky,” replied Pickles. “Dat feels like it was a rope under dar. Did yo’ tie a rope to de tobog, Harry?”

“I took the rope off and left it with Mr. Bruley when we started,” returned the owner of the Buster. “It’s no use,” he groaned. “They’ll reach the tracks before we are half-way down!”

In the meanwhile Boxy Woodruff was feeling along the side of the toboggan. It was not long before his hand came in contact with an end of wash-line.

“Here it is, tied around the toboggan!” he cried. “I’ll bet this is some of Pete Sully’s underhanded work!”

“Yank it loose, can’t you?” exclaimed Harry, anxiously. “Cut it or break it—something.”

Boxy pulled with all of his strength, and the wash-line, which, luckily, was old and rotten, parted. An instant later it was clear of the toboggan bottom, and streaming along behind like the thin tail of a kite.

Freed from this hindrance, the Buster shot forward on its course. Like a comet it passed over the brow of the second hill, with the Whistler over a hundred feet ahead. Could they regain the ground they had lost?

CHAPTER II.
LOST OR WON?

It was one thing for the boys on the Buster to wish to range alongside of the Whistler again, but it was quite a different thing to do it.

Both toboggans were rushing along with furious speed, and now the end of the course was close at hand.

“Sit jess a little moah to de front,” was Pickles’ suggestion, and it was immediately acted upon.

“Didn’t I tell you you wasn’t in it?” shouted Pete Sully, derisively.

“There isn’t a toboggan around Rudskill can beat the Whistler!” put in Bill Dixon.

On and on went the two toboggans. The last little rise was passed and the speed began to slacken.

Suddenly the Whistler struck a snag—the dead limb of a tree, which was half-hidden in the snow.

It quickly swerved out of its course, directly in the path of the oncoming Buster.

“Get out of the way!” shouted Jack Bascoe, who was, as usual, in the front. “Turn her around, Sully!”

“Don’t run into us!” shrieked several on board of the Whistler. “To the right! To the right!”

Those on the Buster tried to do as advised, not only for the sake of their rivals, but also to save themselves. But it was too late to do much. The Buster swung around a trifle, and then came up sideways with a bang, and out into the snow flew every one of the boys on both toboggans.

Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, although several faces and hands were scratched, and Pickles got a bruise in the shin, his one weak spot. All were soon on their feet, and the toboggans were dragged to one side, out of the way of any that might be following.

“What did you mean by running into us?” demanded Pete Sully, hotly, as he stalked up to Harry.

“What could we do when you blocked up the course?” retorted the owner of the Buster.

“We didn’t block up the course!”

“You certainly did,” interposed Jack. “You ought to be thankful that we didn’t run right over you.”

“It wasn’t fair!”

“It was fair,” said Harry. “But I’ll tell you what was not fair—tying that wash-line under my toboggan, and that’s just what one of your crowd did.”

“What’s that?” growled Bill Dixon. “We didn’t touch your confounded bread-shovel.”

“Some one tied that rope on,” said Andy, picking up the line in question. “It smells like your rope, Longman,” he went on, to a boy whose father was the captain of a schooner on the river. “It’s a regular tarred line.”

“See here, because you lost the race, you needn’t claim a foul!” growled Sully, wrathfully. “You may think——”

“Lose the race!” came in a chorus from those who had rode upon the Buster.

“We lost no race!” added Jack, vigorously.

“Yes, you did.”

“I certainly don’t see it.”

“You ran into us, and that gives us the race,” said Bill Dixon.

“Not by a jugful,” exclaimed Harry. “We were on the left, where we belonged. Had you kept to the right——”

“You’d have been all right,” finished Boxy. “Come on up the hill and try it over again.”

“I won’t do it,” returned Sully, sourly. “It’s my race.”

“He won’t race because we’ve found out about that rope,” said Harry, growing angry. “I’m going to tell the crowd about it as soon as we get to the top of the hill.”

“Do you mean to say that I placed that rope under your toboggan?” blustered Sully, stepping up to him with clinched fists.

“One of your crowd did,” returned Harry. “It was put there for the sole purpose of keeping us back.”

“If you say I put it there, I’ll hammer you!”

“You heard what I said. I am not prepared to say more—just now. You may hear from me later.”

Thus talking, the two crowds made their way to the top of the hill. Here they found an excited group of boys waiting for them.

“Did the Whistler win?” cried several.

“Certainly we won!” replied Sully.

“It was no race,” explained Jack. “They struck a snag, and we ran into them while they were on our side of the course.”

“Somebody said that Dixon boy tied a rope under your toboggan,” remarked the gentleman who held the two pocket-knives, to Harry. “Did you find anything wrong?”

“We did!” cried the boy. “Here is the rope. Who saw Dixon do it?”

The question was passed around, and it finally leaked out that three boys in the crowd had seen the sneaking action performed. Dixon had taken the rope from Longman’s sled, and this Longman was finally forced to admit.

“No race,” said the stakeholder, promptly. “I will give both boys their pocket-knives. Dixon, you ought to be ruled off the slide,” he added to the bully’s toady.

“I don’t care, I claim that race,” said Sully, loudly. “I don’t care a rap about the pocket-knife. It’s not half as good as my own.”

Harry wanted to try again, but the bully declined, saying it was getting late, and he was expected home. In reality, Sully was afraid to race fairly.

“We’ll try our good points at the skating races day after to-morrow,” he said to Harry. “You mustn’t forget that I am in the five-mile race against you and Jack Bascoe, and Milne and the rest.”

“I have a good memory,” returned Harry, pointedly. “And you can rest assured that we’ll look out for any more rope tricks,” and with this parting shot he walked off with his toboggan, accompanied by Jack and the others.

“Dat dere Sully makes me mos’ drefful sick,” said Pickles. “He t’inks de hull town must bow to him. It would be de best t’ing in de world if da would jess git togedder and run him off de co’s.”

“One of us must beat him in that race,” said Jack, decidedly. “If he wins, he won’t stop crowing for a month.”

“You can do it, Jack,” said Andy, who had great confidence in his older brother’s abilities. “He hasn’t near the wind you have.”

“That may be, but he’s got everlastingly long legs, Andy; don’t forget that.”

“I’ll bank on Harry,” put in Boxy, who was Harry’s most intimate friend, having lived next door to him for years. “His legs are pretty long, and his wind is right there every time.”

“Well, I don’t care if I do lose, if Harry wins,” said Jack. “So long as we keep the first prize away from the Sully crowd.”

“I’m going to do my best to win that race,” put in Harry. “Not only for the honor, but because I want the money.”

“Has Mr. Grimes decided to put up a purse?” asked Jack, quickly.

“He told me he would put up a gold medal, but if any one wanted it, he would buy the medal back for fifteen dollars. And if I had fifteen dollars I wouldn’t have to ask father for a cent of spending money for a year.”

“And you could go on that tour with us, couldn’t you?” put in Boxy, quickly. “That is, if we go.”

“I suppose I could,” returned Harry, thoughtfully.

The idea of a winter tour had been in the minds of this crowd of boys for several weeks. Rudskill was situated upon the banks of a well-known river in New York State, and their idea was to build an iceboat, and cruise up the river a distance of some forty miles, and then start on a trip among the mountains to a sheet of water, which I shall call Rock Island Lake. Once on the lake, they would cross it on skates, and then locate a winter camp in the heart of the mountains on the western side, where they could spend several weeks in hunting and fishing and other winter sports.

The four boys had already formed themselves into an organization which they called the Zero Club—certainly a most appropriate name for winter use. Jack Bascoe was the president, and also general director of the club, which held weekly meetings regularly in the harness-room of Mr. Bascoe’s barn.

It was Andy who had first proposed this trip, and he had found that idea taken up with avidity. A fire in the town schoolhouse had closed that institution six weeks for repairs, and so the time could be taken without losing any part of the school session.

On the following day the four boys gathered together on the river, which, during the past ten days of severe cold, had frozen completely over, to practice for the coming races, which were to be three in number.

The races were gotten up by a Mr. Grimes, a wealthy and eccentric resident of the town, who personally offered the prizes, which were six in number, a first and second for each race.

As the boys skated around they talked over the matter of leaving home for a time, and also of the expense of such a trip.

“I have reckoned it all out,” said Andy. “We can squeeze through on fifty dollars.”

“That is, if we get blankets and such stuff from home,” said Boxy.

“Certainly. Fifty dollars will only cover the cost of necessary provisions, ammunition and the like. We must furnish our own blankets, clothing, guns, snowshoes, and such things.”

“Well, that is twelve dollars and a half each,” said Harry.

“I can raise that,” meditated Boxy. “I’ve saved eight dollars, and I’ll get father to allow me something on account of my birthday in February next.”

The others laughed at this.

“Drawing on a birthday nearly three months off!” remarked Jack. “Your father will want a discount at that rate.”

“I’ve got the money, and more,” put in Andy. “And I know Jack has it, too.”

“I haven’t but fifty cents,” said Harry, with a light laugh to cover up his real feelings. “So, you see, it’s race or nothing with me.”

“I’ve a good mind to withdraw,” suggested Jack.

“Not for the world, Jack. You must stick, and win it—if you can.”

“But I would rather have you win it,” persisted the president and general manager of the Zero Club.

“No, I won’t have it that way. Promise me you’ll try for the medal, and will do your best to win it.”

Jack demurred, but Harry would not listen, so finally he agreed to do as his friend wished.

The ice on the river was as smooth as glass, and the promises for some great races were very encouraging.

CHAPTER III.
THE RACES.

The following day dawned clear and bright. The races were to come off at ten, half-past ten and eleven o’clock, and long before this time the river in front of the town was alive with skaters.

Harry had some work to do at home, and did not appear until a little before ten. He found his friends anxiously awaiting him.

“Thought you had given it up,” said Boxy. “I know you are fairly aching to let Pete Sully win that five-miler.”

“He won’t win it unless Jack and I drop out,” returned Harry.

“That’s so,” put in Jack Bascoe. “We’ll do our best to leave ’em all behind, eh, Harry?”

The Zero Club gathered at one side of the river, while Pete Sully and his crowd gathered at the other. Milne, also a good skater, glided here and there by himself. He was a good deal of a dude, and on this account had but few friends among the young people of Rudskill.

Sully was bragging about what he was going to do, and talked so loudly that he disgusted many who would otherwise have taken an interest in his endeavors. He was willing to bet all in his pockets—which was not much—that he would easily outdistance those who were pitted against him.

The first race, one of half-a-mile dash, was presently called, and six boys ranged up in line at the starting point. Boxy was in the crowd, he preferring this sort of contest to one where staying powers were required.

The boys started off like a flash at the signal, a loud shouting from the crowd following them.

The short race was over almost before the spectators had ceased to yell. A fellow named Tory had won, with Boxy a close second.

“Good for you, Boxy!” cried Jack. “If I do as well I shall be satisfied.”

“It’s a silver medal for my chest,” replied Boxy, proudly. “And that’s better than a leather one.”

After a short intermission, the second race, two miles, straightaway, was called. Andy was in this, and also Bill Dixon and four others.

“Look out for Dixon,” whispered Jack to his brother. “He may try to trick you as he did the crowd on the toboggan.”

“I’ll be on my guard,” responded Andy.

When the start was made, Andy did not catch his stroke as quickly as did the others, and as a consequence they gained several yards on him.

“Go in, Andy!” cried Harry. “You can do it if you try!”

“He can’t get near Dixon!” sneered Pete Sully. “Look, he’s away behind already!”

“You must do it, Andy!” cried Harry, paying no attention to the bully’s words. “Strike out faster!”

Encouraged by Harry’s words, and also by the calling of his brother and Boxy, Andy did really make an extra effort, and before half a mile was covered passed the last two fellows in the race, thus becoming fourth.

Bill Dixon was in the lead, and for a while it looked as if he would stay there. He kept crawling away from all of the others, and at length had left them pretty much behind.

But now Andy showed of what metal he was made. With a spurt he swept by the two ahead of him, and dashed on close at Bill Dixon’s heels.

“What did I tell you!” cried Harry. “Go in, Andy, and win!”

Dixon heard the cry, and looked over his shoulder. There was yet almost a half mile to skate, and he was nearly winded. He felt that Andy would pass him, try his best to keep up the pace.

He slowed up, and put out one foot, intending thereby to trip Andy up. But the young contestant saw it just in time, and, with a nimble leap, he cleared the obstruction, and went sailing on, winner by ten yards, while Dixon came in third, the boy behind Andy managing to come up before Dixon could regain his lost headway.

Andy would have reported Dixon for his evil intention; but, as he had won the race, he said nothing; still, the look he gave the bully’s toady made that individual sneak out of sight in short order.

And now it was time for the five-mile race, the greatest of the day. It must be confessed that both Harry’s heart and Jack’s beat rapidly as they took their places in line with Sully and Milne.

The race was to be two and a half miles up the river, and the same distance back. A skater with a big white flag marked the turning point.

“Are you all ready boys?” questioned old Mr. Grimes, who conducted the races personally. “Every skate in good order and properly fastened on?”

“Yes, sir,” came first from one and then another.

“Then, go! And good luck go with you!”

They were off, side by side, not a single one a foot ahead or behind. It was undoubtedly the best start of the day.

“Now show ’em what you can do, Sully!”

“Shake ’em up, Milne!”

“Strike out faster, Harry!”

“There goes Jack Bascoe ahead!”

The last cry proved true. Jack had made a splurge, and was now nearly a yard ahead of the other three, who, at the end of the first mile, were still closely bunched.

Then Milne put on steam and went ahead for fully a mile, with Jack behind him, and Harry and Sully side by side in the rear. But the dude of the town could not keep up the pressure, and suddenly, long before the turning point was reached, he collapsed and dropped behind and out of the race entirely.

“Only three now!”

“And Jack Bascoe still in the lead!”

“Sully is crawling up to him!”

It was true. Pete Sully’s long legs were working with wonderful rapidity, and he was slowly forging ahead of Harry, despite the other’s apparent best efforts to keep up.

“Jack’s going to win that race!” cried Andy, with pardonable pride.

“It certainly looks so,” returned Boxy. “Well, he deserves it, although I kind of hoped Harry would get that prize and be able to turn it into money.”

“Jack said he would lend Harry the money if he won the medal,” said Andy. “He said it just before they started.”

“Good for Jack,” returned Boxy. “In that case I certainly don’t begrudge him the token.”

On and on went the skaters, until the turning point was reached, and Jack shot around it in as small a curve as he could make without slipping, and directly on his heels followed Sully.

But the bully and Jack were both becoming winded, and they could not keep up the pace. Harry, on the contrary, had got his second wind, and now he put on a spurt that brought him up yard by yard to the others.

“Harry Webb is gaining on them!”

“Sully is losing ground on Bascoe!”

“Harry is up to Sully!”

“What’s the matter with Jack? Is he out of wind?”

“He must be. See! see! Harry is right on Jack’s heels!”

“Harry has passed them all!” yelled Boxy, in wild delight. “Didn’t I tell you he would do it?”

“They’ve got half a mile to go yet!”

“Never mind, he’s getting farther ahead each minute!”

Boxy was right. Harry was now putting forth every effort. He had just forged ahead of Jack, and it certainly looked as if he would come in a winner.

But Jack was picking up. He was determined to beat Sully, even if he could not gain on his friend.

A couple of rods were passed, and Harry was almost sure of winning, when suddenly a wild, girlish cry rang out across the river.

Harry looked to his left and saw a sight that thrilled him with horror.

Half-way between himself and the shore was a long, narrow spot where the ice was very thin. A girl, scarcely ten years of age, had ventured on this ice, and broken through, and was now struggling madly to save herself from drowning.

Evidently all the other people on the river were so interested in the race that they had not seen the accident nor heard her cries for aid.

“My gracious!” burst from Harry’s lips, and then, forgetting all about the race, and the prize he wished so much to win, he swept from the straight course in a semi-circle toward the hapless victim.

Thinking something had gone wrong, perhaps, with Harry’s skates, Jack kept on, determined to win the medal from Sully, if he possibly could. Sully saw what the real trouble was, but, thoroughly selfish, kept on, hoping to win by accident if not otherwise.

“Help me!” screamed the girl, as she saw Harry approaching. “Help me, Harry Webb!”

“It’s Boxy’s sister, as sure as I live!” cried the boy, in horror. “Keep up, Minnie, and I’ll save you! Catch hold of the ice, and don’t let the current carry you under!”

CHAPTER IV.
A MOMENT OF PERIL.

It was a thrilling moment in Harry Webb’s life when he saw his chum’s sister in her extremely perilous situation.

He well understood how hard it was to keep up one’s courage in that freezing cold water, with the strong current trying its best to drag one under the ice.

“Don’t let go, Minnie!” he shouted, and just then his own voice sounded strange to him. “Hold fast! I’ll be there in another minute!”

With powerful strokes he swept nearer and nearer. The somewhat thin ice bent and cracked beneath his weight, but to this he paid scant heed.

In his pocket, Harry had a couple of skate-straps he had brought along in case anything should happen to his clamp skates. These straps he now buckled together, and wound one end around his hand.

Getting as close to the hole as he dared, he threw out the end of the straps.

“Catch the buckle, Minnie!” he cried. “Can you reach it, or shall I come closer?”

The poor girl in the water tried to speak, but the words would not come, so benumbed and cold was she.

But she put out one hand convulsively, and caught the strap just above the buckle.

“Now put the other hand on the ice, and I’ll pull you up,” went on Harry. “Steady, now, or the ice will——”

Crack! crack! crash!

The ice around the brave boy had suddenly given way, and on the instant he found himself plunged into the chilling water head first.

He went down several feet, and then turned and came up. The shock to his system, all overheated from racing, was terrible, and for a few seconds he seemed fairly paralyzed.

But he retained his hold on the straps, and by their aid was quickly at Minnie Woodruff’s side.

“Oh, Harry!” the girl burst out.

She could not say more, but those two words just then meant a good deal.

“I’ll save you yet, Minnie,” he returned, as he caught her around the waist. “Hold fast to me.”

“I—I can’t! I’m so co—cold!”

“I’ll hold you, then,” he went on. “Help! help! help!”

His cry rang out loud and clear across the frozen river. Fortunately, several had seen him turn from the race course, and watched where he had gone. These persons were now hurrying to the scene of the accident as fast as possible.

“It’s Harry Webb!”

“He’s trying to save Minnie Woodruff from drowning!”

“What a plucky boy to leave the race and go in after her!”

These and numerous other shouts went up. Then, as the little crowd drew closer, they speculated upon how they should aid the struggling pair.

“Somebody get a rope!”

“We want a board worse than anything! You can’t pull them out with a rope.”

In the meantime one boy threw out the end of his long tippet to Harry, who caught one end of it and tied it about Minnie’s wrist.

Then, suddenly, a boy came skating toward the crowd, carrying a long board. It was Boxy Woodruff!

“Here’s a board to get ’em out with!” he cried. “Now if—Minnie!”

He had not previously recognized his sister, and now at the discovery he almost fainted.

“Minnie! and Harry has gone in after her!” he murmured. “Oh, I hope they both get out safe!”

Willing hands had taken the board and shoved out one end toward the big hole in the ice.

“Get back!” shouted a cool-headed man. “Get back, every one, or there’ll be a dozen more in together!”

The warning came none too soon, for already the ice was cracking in a dozen directions. The crowd started back, only the man and Boxy remaining at the outer end of the board, to prevent it slipping around.

Bringing every ounce of his youthful strength into play, Harry caught hold of the end of the board, and slowly pulled himself out of the water, with Minnie half-clinging, half-held to his side. The ice groaned dismally, but did not break, and in a few seconds the two were safe once more.

Boxy caught Minnie in his arms just as the exhausted girl was on the point of fainting. A crowd of admiring boys surrounded Harry.

“Good for you, Harry!”

“That was well done!”

“My! but he’s got nerve, hasn’t he?”

“I—I guess I had better get ho—home!” chattered the hero of the occasion. “I’m almost fro—frozen!”

“Here, take my overcoat!” It was Jack Bascoe who spoke. “You’re a brick, Harry! I never dreamed that you had turned out to save Minnie Woodruff.”

“Who won the ra—race?” questioned Harry, as he slid into the overcoat in short order.

“I did. But you were ahead, and you deserve——”

Jack broke off short, as a sleigh drawn by a pair of coal black horses dashed up on the ice. It was old Mr. Grimes’ turnout.

“Get in here, and put the girl in, too!” cried the old fellow, who sat on the front seat beside the driver. “Be quick! The sooner you both get home the better. You’ll catch your death of cold out here on the river.”

And Minnie Woodruff and Harry were bundled into the back seat by Boxy and the others without delay; the robes were piled over them, and then off they spun for the town.

Luckily, the Woodruff and Webb homesteads were not far distant, and inside of ten minutes both the girl and the boy were in their homes, and being taken care of by their mothers.

Mrs. Webb wished Harry to go bed, but he demurred at this.

“I’m not so frail as all that, mother. I’ll go up to your room, where it’s warm, and take a good rubbing down and change my clothing, and then I’ll be all right. I only hope Minnie gets over it all right.”

Harry departed up the stairs, and after giving him a complete change of raiment, Mrs. Webb hurried next door to assist in making Minnie comfortable, for she knew Mrs. Woodruff was rather sickly, and could not do as readily as most women.

She came back inside of half an hour, and found Harry sitting by the dining-room stove, and with him Jack and Andy Bascoe, who had followed old Grimes’ sleigh on foot.

“I’m feeling just as well as ever, excepting that I’m awfully tired,” said Harry. “How is Minnie?”

“She is abed, but the doctor who was summoned thinks she will recover in a day or two. She was in so long that her whole system was chilled. Mrs. Woodruff is very thankful for what you did.”

“Oh, I didn’t do any more than any other fair-minded fellow would do,” replied Harry, modestly.

“She seems to think so, and so does Boxwell. Mr. Woodruff has not yet come home.”

“He is a genuine hero,” put in Andy. “He ran a great risk, and all the boys say so.”

Jack agreed with him on this point, and a little later, before departing for dinner, spoke of the gold medal he had won.

“That medal ought to go to you, Harry,” he said. “And, by rights, I ought to get the second prize, that Sully got. It isn’t fair to do you out of your winnings in this way.”

“But you won the medal; I didn’t,” said Harry.

“But you would have won it, though.”

“That’s so,” said Andy.

“I don’t care so much for the medal, but you know I was wishing for the money, so I could go with you fellows on that tour——” began Harry.

“Well, if that’s all, I’m going to fix you up on that score,” said Jack, decidedly. “I’ll keep the medal and give you the trip money——”

“No, sir!” cried Harry. “I’m going to get that money myself—by earning it or otherwise, or else I don’t go. That’s settled.”

And all the talking the Bascoe brothers could do would not shake him from this determination.

It was growing toward evening when Boxy’s father, who had been on a trip to New York, came home. He was completely taken aback by the news that awaited him, and very solicitous concerning his only daughter’s welfare.

He remained by Minnie’s side all of that evening, and it was not until well into the forenoon of the next day that he ran over to the Webb house.

“My dear Harry, how can I thank you for what you have done?” he cried, as he grasped the young hero warmly by the hand. “You saved Minnie’s life!”

“Well, I’m downright glad of it,” stammered Harry, not finding anything else to say on the moment.

“Mrs. Woodruff is also very grateful. I would have been over before, but I could not bring myself to leave Minnie’s side.”

“How is she this morning?” questioned Mrs. Webb.

“Very much better—in fact, completely out of danger,” returned the happy father. “Harry, I do not know how to reward you,” he went on, still wringing the boy’s hand.

“I am not looking for any reward, Mr. Woodruff. I only did what I thought was my duty.”

“Nevertheless, you played the part of a real hero, and you deserve a rich reward—more than I or any other man in Rudskill can afford.”

“I was glad to save Minnie for friendship’s sake.”

“I believe you, my boy, but I shall not let it rest there, let me tell you that. In a few days I am going down to your father’s store and have a talk with him about you. Boxwell tells me you have said you would like to attend college with him.”

“Indeed, Mr. Woodruff, I would, but—but——”

“Never mind the buts, Harry. I’m going to talk with your father about it. Boxwell says he wishes you to take the clerk’s place in the store, so as to reduce expenses, but maybe I can fix that up. A bright, brave boy like you deserves a chance in life. Now I must go. By the way, here is a little trifle from Minnie and Mrs. Woodruff which you must not refuse. Boxwell put it in their heads to send it to you.”

As Mr. Woodruff finished, he brought forth a sealed envelope, and thrust it into Harry’s hand. Before the boy could utter any protest he was gone.

With his mother looking over his shoulder, Harry tore open the envelope. There were two things inside. One was a card, on which was written:

“Please accept the inclosed for your share of the expense of the coming tour of the Zero Club.”

Accompanying the card was a crisp, new twenty-dollar bill.

CHAPTER V.
GETTING READY TO START.

“Twenty dollars!” cried Harry, as he spread out the bill. “What do you think of that, mother?”

“It is a very handsome present, Harry. But ought you to accept the money?”

“I don’t know. I don’t like to, exactly, but the Woodruffs are rich, and they can easily afford it.”

“Still, you had better ask your father about it.”

“I will. I’m going down to the store now.”

Mr. Webb kept the only flour and feed store in Rudskill. As we have said, he had been unfortunate in his speculations, and now had to live quite frugally to make both ends meet. The business was well established, and he employed a clerk and also a man to drive the wagon.

Harry often helped at the store, it being his duty to carry out small orders and clean up. During the school term he did this work early in the morning and after the school session, but now he did it whenever called upon by his parent.

Mr. Webb had heard all about the proposed tour of the Zero Club, and, as Harry’s heart seemed set on accompanying the other boys, he had good-naturedly determined to let his son off for three or four weeks, feeling that the outing would make him more willing than ever to take hold when he came back.

But nothing had been said about the expense, Harry knowing full well that his father could not afford to let him off and give him money besides.

Mr. Webb smiled when his son showed him the card and the twenty-dollar bill.

“Well, I don’t know,” he said, slowly. “I helped Mr. Woodruff out more than once when I felt rich and he felt poor. I guess you would better keep the money and go and thank them for the gift. It’s just what you need for the trip, isn’t it?”

“Yes, twenty dollars will more than cover my expenses,” said Harry. “And if you say keep the money, let me tell you what I propose to do, father.”

“Well?”

“We have reckoned it out, and I can get along on fourteen dollars easily. Now I propose to get Paul Larkins to take my place here for three weeks at two dollars per week and pay him myself. That will help you out, and also give Paul the chance to help his mother, who is down sick.”

“But the money is for the trip, Harry,” said Mr. Webb, although well pleased at his son’s generous proposal.

“Well, I count that an expense of the trip, getting a substitute while I am away.”

“Well, if you say so, let it be so,” returned Mr. Webb, as he turned away to wait on a customer.

When Harry was done work he went back home and fixed up, and then called on the Woodruffs. Blushing furiously, he took both Mrs. Woodruff and Minnie by the hand, and thanked them for their gift. Somehow he was glad to escape the praise they showered upon him for what he had done.

He left the house with Boxy, who linked arms with him in the most brotherly fashion.

“We’ll be greater chums than ever now,” said Boxy. “I’ve talked it over with father, and you are to go to college with me when we graduate at Rudskill Academy. But never mind that now. You’ll go on the tour, then?”

“Will I! Of course I will!” cried Harry. “I’m fairly bubbling over with enthusiasm on that point.”

“Come on and hunt up the Bascoes, then, and we’ll talk matters over.”

It was not difficult to find Andy and Jack, and to them matters were quickly explained. The quartet composing the Zero Club at once made their way to the meeting-room, and here began an animated discussion of plans regarding the proposed tour.

Andy got out a long slip of paper, and on this were put down the many articles to be taken along—blankets, skates, guns and ammunition, as well as flour, tea, coffee, sugar, salt, spices, canned goods, and half-a-dozen tin plates and various kitchen utensils. These goods were to be packed on a sled belonging to Boxy, the sled to be tied to the iceboat on the way up the river.

Then came the question of the iceboat. As they intended to use the craft but a short portion of the way going and coming, it was decided to knock it together as cheaply as possible.

“I have got an old sail or two,” said Jack. “And we can get some old lumber and iron runners from the ruins of the old blacksmith-shop that stands on that property father bought last fall.”

“And I’ve got rope enough,” said Harry. “Father’s mill garret is full of it, so much comes around packages.”

Then came the question of when they should start, and it was unanimously agreed that the following Monday morning would be best. That would give them just enough time to build the iceboat and make other necessary preparations.

Andy was appointed treasurer of the club, and that afternoon each of the boys paid over to him exactly twelve dollars and a half, so that, with his own money, he had fifty dollars to expend for the tour. The building of the iceboat was begun without delay at the old blacksmith-shop, the land to which sloped down to the river’s edge.

The news that the four boys were going off for nearly a month’s outing soon spread, and many came down to the blacksmith-shop to see what was going on.

Among the crowd was Pete Sully, who turned up his nose at the boat the boys were building.

“If I couldn’t build a better boat than that I’d drown myself,” he sneered. “I’ll bet it won’t sail a foot.”

“Build a boat and try your speed against her,” said Jack, lightly. “Talk is well enough, but actions go further.”

“Maybe you think I can’t build a boat,” retorted Sully, angrily.

“I’m not thinking in that direction,” returned Jack. “I am busy with my own affairs.”

“I’ll build a boat and show you,” growled Sully, and he went off with Dixon, his ever-present toady.

“Do you think he’ll build a boat?” questioned Harry, who was hammering away on one of the runners of the skeleton craft.

“No; he hasn’t brains enough,” put in Boxy. “I don’t believe he could drive a nail without splitting the board, if he tried his best.”

“It’s a case of sour grapes,” remarked Andy. “He is jealous because we are going off for a good time.”

“Well, he and his crowd can go off on their own account if they wish,” said Jack. “We are not hindering them.”

“Maybe he will take it into his head to go off, after we are gone,” said Andy. “He always was a great hand to imitate somebody else.”

It was fortunate that the boys had the old blacksmith-shop to work in, for that day it began to snow furiously, and before nightfall the ground was covered to the depth of six or eight inches. This, on top of the layer already packed down, made elegant sleighing.

“We must have a few more rides on my toboggan before we leave,” said Harry.

“Let’s spend Saturday evening on the hill,” suggested Andy. “We can go early, and still have time to make final preparations for our tour before we go to bed.”

The new fall of snow caused plenty of snowballing to occur in the town. The Zero Club took full part in this, and had one battle which was not soon forgotten.

It was started by Bill Dixon, who had been “laying to get even” with Harry ever since the episode on the toboggan-slide. Dixon hung around Harry’s corner on the morning following the snowstorm, in company with half-a-dozen lesser lights of the Sully crowd. Under his arms he held several “soakers,” almost as hard as flint.

When Harry hurried out of the gate on his way to do the morning work at his father’s store, Dixon took careful aim, and let drive with all of his might.

The hard snowball took Harry in the left shoulder, hurting him not a little. Had it landed in his face it might have put out his eye or broken his nose.

Harry staggered back, and Dixon, chuckling over the success of his shot, dodged behind a high board fence.

“Give it to him, fellows!” he cried, excitedly. “Give it to him in the head!”

Several more snowballs were thrown, but Harry was now on his guard. He dodged them, and began to run across the street, gathering up some snow as he ran.

“What’s up, Harry?” cried Boxy, coming out of his house at the moment.

“Some fellow hit me terribly hard in the shoulder. Come on!” returned Harry, and, in honor bound to help a fellow member of the club, Boxy ran after his chum.

At the end of the fence they caught sight of Dixon and the others. A fierce fusillade of snowballs from both sides followed. Harry hit Dixon in the chest, and Boxy knocked off his cap.

“Go for ’em!” shouted Dixon, in a rage. “Hullo, there, Pete!” he yelled to Sully, who was out looking for him, and the principal of the gang soon joined the forces against the two members of the Zero Club.

Two to seven was an uneven contest, and it was not long before Harry and Boxy felt they were getting the worst of it.

“If only Jack and Andy were here!” panted Boxy. “Unless they come, we’ll have to turn tail and run.”

“I sha’n’t run,” said Harry, firmly. “Let’s direct all of our shots at Sully and Dixon. They are the leaders of the crowd, and if we can frighten them back the others will quickly follow.”

Boxy caught the suggestion, and it was carried out immediately. The result was that inside of two minutes Sully got three snowballs in his face and neck, and Dixon half a dozen all over him.

“Hi! that ain’t fair!” howled Dixon. “They’re throwing at me and nobody else!”

“Another volley on Dixon,” whispered Harry. “That’s the weak point now.”

And out flew the hard, white balls, and the bully’s toady received two more, this time both in the neck. The snow went down inside of his collar, causing him to yell from the cold.

“I—I can’t stand this!” he sputtered. “Why don’t you fellows do something?”

“Let’s charge on them!” cried Sully, angrily. “Come on—everybody take all the snowballs he can carry.”

The seven loaded up with ammunition at once, and they sallied forth. But, to their dismay, Jack and Andy Bascoe had just arrived on the scene, followed up by Pickles Johnsing, the colored youth. These three were not slow to take in the situation, and they sailed in vigorously.

“Dis am most lubly sport!” cried Pickles. “How yo’ like dat, Sully? Ki! hi! Ain’t dat jess elegant, Dixon? An’ heah’s one fo’ you, Len Spencer, fo’ callin’ me a coon!”

And Pickles rushed to the front, followed by Andy and Jack, and compelling Sully and his crowd to retreat in spite of themselves. Aided by Boxy and Harry, they fought so vigorously that inside of ten minutes the bully and his chums were put completely to rout.

Sully and Dixon, and also Len Spencer, Pickles’ particular enemy, were greatly enraged over the way they had been used. They threatened vengeance on the members of the Zero Club. How they carried out their threat will be seen later on.

CHAPTER VI.
LAST RIDE ON THE BUSTER.

By Saturday noon the iceboat was finished. It was nearly thirty feet long, and boasted of a mainsail only. It was by no means a handsome craft, and the boys did not doubt but what there were many crafts on the river that could outspeed her.

“But she’ll be safe and sure,” remarked Jack, “and that is what we want.”

“We must christen her before we make a trial trip this afternoon,” said Andy. “We have suggested a hundred names, and not chosen any.”

“Let us put each name on a slip of paper, and put all the slips in a hat,” suggested Boxy. “Then Harry draw one, and that shall be the name.”

This was at once agreed to, and nine names went into Andy’s cap. Harry fumbled around, and finally drew a slip out and read it aloud.

“The Icicle! That suits me. Who wrote it down?”

“I did,” said Jack.

“It’s a good name for an iceboat,” put in Boxy. “Hurrah for the Zero Club and the Icicle!” he shouted.

And three cheers were given with a will.

Directly after dinner the four boys shoved the clumsy craft down to the ice, and made a trial trip on her across the river and back and two miles up the shore. The Icicle behaved very well, and Jack declared that they would have no trouble in reaching their destination on her.

As soon as the trial trip was over they separated to get their various things, for they were determined that all should be in readiness for the start Monday morning at sunrise, and that nothing was to be done on the Sabbath.

Blankets, skates, and other things were taken down to the meeting-room in the Bascoe barn. Andy and Jack had shotguns of their own, and Boxy had a rifle. Harry had no firearms, but borrowed from his father a small shotgun. Each of the boys also provided himself with fishing lines, and Jack took along a spear for spearing through a hole in the ice.

“The sled will be pretty well heaped up, I’m thinking,” remarked Boxy, who was doing the packing.

“Won’t it tip over if it’s too highly packed?” asked Andy.

“We’ll put a bent stick across the top,” said Jack. “That will keep it from tipping only so far.”

“We want to make sure that nothing is forgotten,” said Harry. “It would be fine to get miles from any house, and then find that you had forgotten something you wanted the worst way.”

“I’ve got the list, and I’ve checked off the articles,” returned Andy. “I’ve even got the forks and knives and spoons down.”

“Have you got a big carving-knife? We can’t do without that.”

“By gracious! I never thought of that!” exclaimed Andy, his face reddening. “We wouldn’t be able to cut up a bear even if we shot him.”

“I’ve brought a hunting-knife,” put in Boxy. “See here—a regular Mohawk scalping steel. Wah! wah! Me take white man’s scalp and dry him hair for smoking tobac!” he went on, dancing around and flourishing the knife in true Indian fashion—according to a dime novel he had once had the patience to wade through.

“Beware of Bloody Ben of Digger’s Gulch!” shrieked Andy, in reply, and he caught up his gun. “He is out to avenge the murder of his twenty-fo-o-ur bro-o-thers!”

“Here, Andy, don’t point that gun at any one,” put in Jack, sternly.

“It isn’t loaded, Jack.”

“Never mind, put it down. There are too many accidents of that sort, where somebody didn’t think the gun was loaded.”

Andy put down the firearm, and packing was resumed, Jack going into the house to obtain a carving-knife for the trip.

At last the sled was loaded, and covered over with an old rubber horse-blanket which Mr. Woodruff gave to Boxy. The load was strapped on as tightly as possible, and over it was placed the stick Jack had mentioned, the two ends sticking out and downward nearly two feet on either side.

“Now we are all ready for the start,” observed Andy, as he surveyed what had been done. “How I wish it were Monday morning, so that we wouldn’t have to wait.”

“You mustn’t forget the rides to-night on the Buster,” said Harry. “It may be the last time we can use the toboggan this winter.”

“Oh, I guess the snow will keep until we get back,” said Andy. “But I am right ready for the sport to-night, nevertheless.”

The packed sled was locked up in the barn, and the boys repaired to their various homes for supper.

“Well, Harry, all ready?” smiled Mrs. Webb, who took a keen interest in her son’s doings.

“All ready, mother,” he returned. “Is supper ready? We are going tobogganing for the last time to-night.”

“Yes, you can have supper at once, Harry. But I want some wood brought in first.”

“That’s so! I didn’t mean to forget it!” he cried, and, dashing out into the woodshed, which he had piled high with split wood ready for the stove, the boy brought in an armful. “Paul Larkins has promised to bring in wood and do errands for you while I am away,” he said. “So you won’t miss me so very much.”

“Yes, I will miss you, Harry,” returned Mrs. Webb, affectionately.

“Oh, yes, I know. And I’ll miss you, too,” he replied, throwing his arms about her neck and kissing her. “It will seem awfully queer to be away from home.”

“You must take good care of yourself.”

“I’ll try to do that, mother.”

Harry did not spend much time at the supper table, and, his hasty meal finished, he brought out the Buster, and examined the toboggan to see if it was in good trim for the evening’s sport. Little did he dream of the fearful peril a ride on the long, low sled was to bring him and the others.

Boxy came over a moment later, and together they dragged the Buster off toward the coasting hills. They had to pass the Bascoe homestead, and here Boxy let out the peculiar whistle of the club for Andy and Jack.

“They say the Doublehill course is as smooth as glass,” said Andy, as he came out with a piece of cake in his hand. “Some of the folks don’t dare go down it.”

“I’m not afraid,” cried Harry. “Are you?”

All of the boys agreed that they were not. Each took hold of the rope, and they soon reached the top of the long double hill, where a bright bonfire was already burning, although it was still almost daylight.

“We ought to have a brake of some sort, I suppose,” mused Jack, as he surveyed the shining course, “It does look awfully slippery.”

“Oh, go ahead!” put in Boxy, impatiently. “I guess if we tumble off it won’t kill us.”

He sprang upon the toboggan, and, seeing this, Andy and Jack followed. Harry gave the customary push and clung fast, and away they started down the first of the two hills.

Whiz went the Buster over the smooth surface, rushing along with a speed that fairly took away their breath.

“Talk about cannon-ball speed!” cried Boxy. “A cannon-ball couldn’t catch us!”

“Hark!” cried Jack. “What was that whistle?”

“It’s a train on the railroad,” replied Harry. “It’s the extra Saturday night express! I forgot all about it,” he went on, with a little gasp.

“We’ll have to turn off at the tracks,” put in Andy, nervously.

“If we can,” said Jack. “We are going so fast that perhaps it can’t be done.”

“We must do it!” cried Boxy, in alarm.

“Yes! yes! we must!”

It was easy enough to say they must, but how could they? The toboggan was rushing on faster than ever. Over the brow of the second hill it went, and down the slope toward the tracks. Jack tried to steer to the side, and so did the others, but all in vain.

And now they saw the train rounding the side of the hill, and coming on at full speed, the bell ringing and the whistle blowing to warn everybody off the tracks.

Jack, who was in front, made another desperate effort to change their course. It was useless. Andy, who was next to him, tried to scream out, but the sound stuck in his throat. It looked as if all four of the boys were going to certain destruction.

“Jump for your lives!” See page [53].

CHAPTER VII.
BY A HAIR’S BREADTH.

Harry, who half stood up on the end of the flying toboggan, was the only member of the Zero Club who retained his presence of mind.

He saw at a glance that they and the oncoming express train must reach the crossing at about the same time, and in that case the grim locomotive and heavy cars would deal to them certain death.

“Jump for your lives!” he cried out, hoarsely. “Jump, every one of you!”

His tone was so decisive that the other three acted on it almost mechanically. Jack, who was in front, leaped first, and after him came all the others in a heap.

Over and over they rolled, each trying to shield himself as much as he could by the overcoat he wore. Jack went down to the bottom of the hill on his head, and poor Andy came over him, striking his forehead on a railroad tie, the blow rendering him unconscious.

Boxy slid along on his chest to one side, and crashed into a mass of brush with such force that his clothing was torn to ribbons, and his face and hands were scratched in a dozen places.

Harry struck on his back, and turned half-a-dozen different ways before he could stop himself. When finally he did come to a halt, it was within two feet of the railroad tracks.

The powerful locomotive rushed past, followed by the tender and two cars. Then there was a series of sharp jerks as the lever was reversed by the engineer, the tracks were sanded, and the long train came to a sudden halt. The conductor and several brakemen were out almost instantly, demanding to know what was the matter.

“Come pretty near running over that crowd!” cried out the engineer. “If they had not jumped, I reckon I would have killed most of ’em.”

“I don’t see any toboggan,” returned the conductor.

“I smashed that to kindling wood. There’s part of it on the cowcatcher, and the rest is on the other side of the track.”

“By George! that’s so. You can count yourselves mighty lucky, boys,” went on the conductor, to Jack, who was getting up slowly.

“I suppose so,” returned Jack, briefly, and then he turned to where Andy was lying, and bent over his younger brother. “Andy! Andy! are you hurt very badly?”

“Jack!” murmured the half-unconscious boy. “Oh, my head!”

“He struck it on the ties, I guess,” said one of the brakemen. “It’s bleeding a bit. Better rub some snow on it.”

By this time Harry and Boxy came limping to the scene, both presenting a most deplorable sight, Boxy especially, with half of his clothing torn from his back.

“We can’t wait,” said the conductor. “You want to be more careful how you coast down this hill,” he went on, to the crowd that was beginning to collect. “If you don’t, we’ll have the worst kind of an accident here some day.”

He motioned to the engineer, and hurried to one of the cars, followed by the other train hands. In a few seconds the express was once more on its way.

The crowd around the boys kept growing, as it spread that an accident had occurred.

“Harry Webb’s toboggan was smashed by the express!”

“Andy Bascoe was almost killed!”

“Every one of them was shaken up badly!”

Under the tender care of Jack and the others, Andy soon came to himself. But his head ached fearfully, and he could hardly stand on his feet.

“Yo’ sit on my bread-shubble, and I’ll ride yo’ home,” said Pickles Johnsing, who happened to be on hand. “Yo’ can sit on an’ hole him, Jack, if yo’ wants to,” he continued.

So Jack got on, and made it comfortable for Andy, whose head he had bound up with his own handkerchief and several others. Although they felt sore in every joint, Harry and Boxy insisted on helping Pickles drag the sled to its destination.

“The Buster is smashed to bits,” said Boxy on the way.

“I know it,” returned Harry. “But I don’t care,” he added, with a shudder. “I couldn’t bear to ride on her again after that narrow escape.”

“Nor I. My! I ain’t done trembling yet,” was Boxy’s confession, in a low tone.

The news of the accident had preceded them, and they found Mr. and Mrs. Bascoe anxiously awaiting their appearance.

“My boy!” cried the mother, as she caught Andy in her arms. “And you were almost killed?”

“Oh, no, mother; I struck my head, that’s all,” replied Andy, putting on a bold front. “I’ll be all right by to-morrow.”

Andy limped into the house, and a servant was dispatched for a doctor. When the physician arrived he declared that the bruise was not serious. The shock to the boy’s system was worse, and he must remain quiet for a day or two.

“We won’t be able to go away on Monday morning,” said Jack to the others. “Father says we had better wait until Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“I don’t care,” said Harry. “I am thankful we escaped being killed.”

“So am I,” put in Boxy. “And I just as lief wait, for I’m too stiff to start off on a tour just yet.”

“How is Minnie?”

“Oh, she’s as well as ever.”

Sunday passed quietly, although the escape of the four boys was the talk of the town. On Monday Andy was found to be greatly improved, and it was decided that the start up the river should be made on the following morning at sunrise.

“It won’t do to delay much longer,” said Jack, “for it looks as if we might have a heavy snowstorm before long, and that would block our chances of using the Icicle.”

“Oh, I hope it doesn’t snow until we are settled in our camp!” cried Boxy. “I was just longing for that iceboat ride!”

Even at the last moment, the boys found several things to do which had previously escaped their notice. Some stores had been forgotten, and not a bit of medicine, arnica or court-plaster had been packed with the things. All these, however, were procured, and late Monday evening Jack declared themselves prepared to depart.

It may well be imagined that none of the boys slept well that night. Each was anxious for the start, and all heads were filled with visions of glorious times to come. What a great and grand thing this tour of the Zero Club was to be!

Long before daylight Harry was up and dressed. His mother also arose, and saw to it that her son had a good warm breakfast before he departed.

“You won’t get another like it for some time to come,” she said, with a sorry little smile. “Mark my words.”

“Nonsense, mother,” he laughed. “Just think of the game we’ll shoot and the fish we’ll catch.”

“Perhaps, Harry. Remember one thing, my boy; do not run into danger.”

“I’ll try to remember what you say.”

Harry had barely finished when Boxy came over, and, with a final good-by, the two started off for the Bascoe homestead.

They found the other two members of the club waiting for them. Jack had the well-packed sled out of the barn, and Andy stood beside him, a trifle pale, but otherwise as well as ever.

“Just a fine morning!” cried Jack. “And the wind blowing exactly in the right direction.”

“But snow isn’t far off—my father said so,” returned Harry. “He said we would be lucky to reach Rock Island Lake without catching a downfall.”

“We won’t lose another minute!” burst in Boxy. “Come on, boys! Good-by, everybody, and three cheers for the tour of the Zero Club!”

The backyard rang with the cheers, and then, with caps waving, the four boys moved off, dragging the sled behind them.

It certainly was a fine morning, the rising sun sending long glittering rays over the crust of the frozen snow. The wind was a trifle cold, but this the quartet did not mind. For them, just now, it was much better than no wind at all.

“I calculate that we can reach Hammerstone by twelve o’clock,” said Jack. “And that will be half the journey up the river.”

“And we can reach Rudd’s Landing by nightfall,” put in Boxy. “And start across country for the lake the first thing to-morrow. Did you send word to Barton Coils about taking care of the iceboat for us?”

“Yes, and he said we could stay at his place all night if we wished. I reckon it will be better than trying to put up a hut just for one night.”

Boxy demurred a little at this. He wished to go to camping just as quickly as possible. But the others overruled him.

“We’ll get camping enough, never fear,” remarked Andy. “Remember, we’ll have to put in one night on this side of the lake shore before we strike a suitable place to camp.”

As soon as they reached the vicinity of the river, Harry ran ahead to unfasten the iceboat, and get the craft in readiness for the start.

A few seconds later the others heard him give a cry of wild alarm. He soon reappeared among them.

“The Icicle is gone!” was the startling intelligence he brought.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE STOLEN ICEBOAT.

The other members of the Zero Club came to a dead halt.

“Gone!” burst out Andy and Boxy in a breath, while Jack looked as if he had not heard aright.

“Yes, gone!” repeated Harry.

“But I locked it fast to the piling!” exclaimed Jack. “You have the key.”

“I don’t care! she’s gone, and I can’t see anything of her.”

Without another word, the quartet hurried down to the edge of the ice. It was just as Harry had announced, the iceboat was nowhere in sight. Each of the boys looked at his comrades.

“What does it mean?” asked Boxy.

“It means that the Icicle has been stolen!” cried Jack.

“Stolen?”

“Yes. It was locked up tight enough. Somebody has come here and either broken the lock or else had a key to fit it. Boys, we are in a hole!”

The faces of the Zero Club fell. Without their iceboat, with which to make the journey up the river, what was to be done?

“Who would have taken her?” questioned Boxy, after running out on the frozen river and looking up and down anxiously.

“Maybe some tramps,” suggested Andy. “I saw several of them hanging around yesterday.”

“I saw those tramps, too,” returned Harry. “It would be just like them, if they wanted to go to some other place on the river.”

“It’s a real shame!” muttered Jack. “Our trip spoiled at the very start.”

“If we only knew in what direction the boat had gone we might go after her,” said Andy. “Our skates are on the sled, you know.”

“That’s the ticket!” burst out Boxy. “Give me my skates without delay. It’s ten to one they went off this morning, and so they can’t be very far away.”

“I have an idea,” said Jack. “Supposing two of us skate up the river, and two down, on the lookout? We’ll go, say three or four miles, and if we don’t see anything we can return here.”

“All right,” returned Harry. “We can’t afford to let anybody run off with the Icicle.”

While the boys were talking over this plan in an excited way, and getting out their skates and putting them on, the well-known figure of Pickles Johnsing appeared in sight. The colored youth was running as fast as his short, fat legs would permit.

“Mos’ dun missed yo’!” he gasped. “An’ I made up my mind to see yo’ off, suah!”

“We’re not off just yet, Pickles,” said Jack.

“No? I t’ought yo’ wuz gwine soon as de sun shone up?”

“Our iceboat has been stolen. We just found it out,” said Boxy. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Wot? De Isticle gone?” ejaculated the colored youth, with his big eyes rolling in wonder. “Yo’ don’t say! Who dun tuk her?”

“That’s what we want to know,” said Andy.

Pickles began to blink his eyes, as if in deep thought. Then suddenly he slapped his thigh with his broad hand.

“By de boots! I fink I know who dun tuk de Isticle!” he roared.

“You do?” came in concert from the members of the Zero Club.

“Yes, sah!”

“Who?”

“Sully, Dixon and dat low-down Len Spencer!”

The boys started.

“What makes you think so?” asked Jack, catching the colored youth by the arm.

“I heered dem a-talkin’ ’bout it las’ night on de toboggan-slide. Sully said he would like ter break up yo’r gwine away, and Dixon said de Isticle was tied up down heah, an’ da could git hold ob it easy enought an’ put yo’ in de hole.”

“That settles it!” cried Harry, angrily. “Our old enemies are at work against us. They took the iceboat just to break up our tour.”

“But they sha’n’t break it up!” cried Boxy. “I’ll go on foot first!”

“So will I,” joined in Andy.

“If we only knew where they had taken the Icicle we might go after them,” said Jack. “I don’t believe in letting them have their own way.”

“Nor I—after working so hard on the iceboat,” added Boxy. “Pickles, did they say anything about where they might go?”

“No, da didn’t,” replied the colored youth, slowly. “But, hol’ on—Len Spencer said he was gwine down to Lumberton to-day fo’ his father——”

“Then that’s where they have gone!” put in Jack, hurriedly. “Of course, they wouldn’t dare go up the river, knowing we were bound that way. I’ll bet a dollar they are on the way to Lumberton this minute!”

“I believe you,” said Harry. “Shall we go after them?”

“Of course!”

“Certainly!”

“Can we catch them?”

“We ought to be able to do so on our skates. The wind is almost full against them, so they will have to do a bit of tacking, while we can skate straight ahead.”

With frantic haste, the four boys completed the task of putting on their skates. Pickles had his pair along with him, and put them on also.

“I’se gwine wid yo’, if you lets me,” he said. “Maybe yo’ll want some help if yo’ gits in a muss.”

“Certainly, come on, Pickles,” said Jack.

The sled was left in a safe place, and then, without further delay, the five boys started down the river toward Lumberton, a small settlement ten miles distant.

At first but slow progress was made, owing to the stiffness felt by the members of the Zero Club from the toboggan accident. But gradually they warmed up to the work, and then they glided over the smooth ice rapidly. Pickles, who was a good skater, despite the shortness of his legs, kept close to Jack’s side.

“I wish we were provided with clubs,” said Boxy. “We may have a rough time of it with Sully and his gang. He hasn’t forgotten how we got the best of him at snowballing, and most likely he’s prepared to fight us off.”

“He’ll give up the iceboat fast enough, never fear,” returned Jack. “You must remember, I can have him arrested for stealing our property if I want to.”

“But you wouldn’t do that, would you?” asked Harry.

“Not unless he got positively ugly. But he must be taught to remember that we intend to stand no nonsense.”

On and on down the frozen river swept the five boys, until Rudskill was left far behind. The sun mounted higher in the sky, tempering the wind and making skating more agreeable.

“We’ll soon be up to Thompson’s Bend, and then we’ll have a straight course before us,” said Andy.

“If I’d thought, I would have taken the field-glasses from the pack,” said Boxy. “Then we could have seen the Icicle even if she was miles off.”

“I kin see dat Isticle fur ’nouf, nebber fear,” said Pickles. “My eyes hab been trained since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

The bend Jack had mentioned was reached five minutes later, and in a bunch the boys swept around the last projecting headland. A straight course for twelve miles lay before them.

“There’s the Icicle!” cried Andy, suddenly.

“Where? where?” came from the others.

“Over to the east shore! See, they are tacking this way!”

“You are right!” returned Harry. “And there is Bill Dixon standing at the bow.”

“An’ dat low-down Len Spencer in de back, alongside ub Pete Sully!” added Pickles. “Didn’t I dun tole yo’ da was comin’ dis way?”

“They have discovered us!” exclaimed Boxy, a second later. “See, they intend to turn on the other tack. Come on, fellows, we mustn’t give them a chance to get away!”

He started off at full speed on his skates, and the others quickly followed.

The iceboat was all of an eighth mile off, and speeding over the river as fast as the wind would carry her. Those on board had discovered the owners as quickly as they themselves had been revealed, and were now making frantic efforts to get out of the reach of their pursuers.

CHAPTER IX.
THE TOUR BEGINS.

“I wonder if they will attempt to fight?” asked Harry, as he swept on beside Jack.

“I hardly think so,” was the reply. “But if they do, we are five to three.”

“I own dat Len Spencer a lickin’,” put in Pickles. “He won’t dare say one word to dis child or he dun cotch it, suah.”

“Don’t start a fight,” warned Jack, earnestly. “We have the law on our side, and that’s enough.”

By this time half the distance toward the Icicle had been covered. During this interval those on board the iceboat had managed to swing about the main sheet. It was now filling, and the craft was beginning to draw slowly away from them.

“Stop there!” shouted Jack, at the top of his lungs, and the others joined in the cry.

“Good-by!” shouted Sully, derisively. “Hope you enjoy skating!”

“We’ll have you locked up if you don’t stop!” yelled Boxy. “That is our property you are running off with!”

“Rats!” returned Sully, but he and his companions were not a little disturbed by Boxy’s plain statement of facts.

“We must put on more steam!” urged Harry. “If they once catch the wind fairly they will give us a nice chase across to the Lights.”

“Never mind, we’ll catch them on the next tack!” said Andy.

Nevertheless, the five boys put on a burst of speed which brought them to within a couple of hundred feet of the Icicle.

“They are going to tack back!” cried Harry. “Now if we try——”

“They are going to turn round and sail right with the wind!” burst in Jack. “Hurry up, or we’ll lose them and have to follow them to Rudskill, and goodness only knows how much farther!”

Jack was right. Sully had given the order, and all hands on the Icicle were aiding in turning her bow up the river.

The clumsy craft swung around in the wind while they were still just out of reach. Then the mainsail again caught the breeze, and off moved the iceboat at a livelier speed than ever.

“We’re beaten!” gasped Andy.

“No, we are not!” shouted Jack. “Come on, fellows! They have got to steer to the right to avoid that open flow over there!”

Away he went, with Harry, Boxy and Pickles at his heels. Andy could not keep up the pace, and dropped a little behind.

Harry felt as if he was once more in the five-mile race, and put forth every ounce of muscle that was in his sturdy limbs. Gradually he drew ahead of his companions and closer to the iceboat.

Those on the Icicle saw him gaining on them, and endeavored to increase their speed. But it was of no avail, the wind subsiding just a trifle when most needed by them.

In another half-minute Harry was alongside of the iceboat. He attempted to jump on board, but Sully sprang at him and pushed him off.

“Keep away, or I’ll crack you in the head!” shouted the bully of Rudskill, roughly.

“This is our iceboat, and I am bound to get on board!” returned Harry. “Don’t you dare to touch me again, or you’ll get the worst of it.”

Once more he skated up and caught hold. Sully again tried to push him back. Harry grabbed his arm, and an instant later the bully went sliding down on his back on the hard ice.

“Oh! oh! my back!” howled Sully, in combined fright and pain.

“Serves him right!” returned Harry. “Come on, boys, I’ve got rid of one of them!” he shouted to his companions.

To avoid the open flow before mentioned, Dixon and Spencer were now tacking once more. This allowed Harry to reach the iceboat a third time, and now he sprang safely aboard.

“Lower the mainsail!” he cried, in a determined voice. “Do you hear, Dixon?”

“But—but——” stammered the bully’s toady.

“No buts about it; lower the sail, I tell you, unless you want to be pitched off after Sully!”

Seeing Sully’s fate, Dixon was thoroughly cowed, and he hastened to do as Harry had ordered. Hardly had the sail come down than Jack and the others swept up and boarded the Icicle in a body.

“Don’t—don’t kill us!” cried Spencer, who was even a worse coward than Dixon.

“Yo’ is a fine fellah to run off wid other folkeses property!” put in Pickles. “I dun reckon Jack an’ de rest will send yo’ all to prison fo’ ten or twelve yeahs!”

“It wasn’t my—my fault!” whined Spencer. “Sully put up the job.”

“You get right off the boat!” commanded Jack. “And you, too, Dixon!”

“Here, in the middle of the river?” questioned the latter, anxiously.

“Yes, right here.”

“You don’t mean to leave us way out here, four miles from home, do you?” demanded Sully, as he limped up.

“Yes, leave them here,” put in Boxy. “They deserve it.”

“It won’t hurt them to walk home,” said Harry.

“Dat’s jess right,” added Pickles. “Let dem walk ebery step ub de way.”

He and the others sprang on board of the iceboat and began to hoist the mainsail. They had hardly done so when Sully rushed up and tried to hit Jack in the head with his fist.

Pickles sprang forward and pushed the bully’s arm aside. Then he let out with his own fist, and down went Sully flat on his back, while the Icicle sailed off, leaving Dixon and Spencer staring at the fate of their leader in dumb amazement.

“That’s the time you did it, Pickles!” cried Boxy, approvingly. “My! just look how mad Sully is!”

They looked back and saw that the bully had arisen to his feet and was shaking his fist at them in rage. A moment later they swept around Thompson’s Bend, and the trio of defeated ones was lost to view.

“I owe you one for your aid, Pickles,” said Jack, with a kindly look at the colored boy, who grinned with pleasure. “I sha’n’t forget you.”

Pickles cleared his throat several times and looked down at the ice for a moment in silence. The boys saw at once that something was on his mind.

“Say, why can’t yo’ fellahs take me along!” he burst out suddenly. “Ebery fust-class camp hab got to hab a cook an’ general util’ty man around, pap sez, an’ he sez I kin go along if youse will hab me. I don’t want no pay fo’ gwine along, an’ I’ll do wot I kin to help fill up de larder. I ain’t much wid a gun, but I kin trap t’ings, and yo’ all knows wot I kin do fishin’ an’ spearin’. It an’t fo’ de likes of yo’ to wash de dishes and sech, an’—an’, to tell de truf, I wants to go powerful bad!”

And Pickles’ big, round eyes told very plainly that he spoke the truth. He had had that suggestion on his mind a long while, but he had hesitated to speak for fear of being refused.

The boys looked at each other. They had not thought to include any one but themselves in the proposed outing. But it would be a shame to disappoint Pickles, who had always stood by them and done them more than one favor.

“An’ I kin take my banjo and mouf harmonica along,” went on the colored youth. “Da will come in mighty handy-like to help kill de long evenings.”

“That’s so,” said Boxy. “And you can give me those lessons you promised me.”

“And you can show me how to build those traps you spoke about,” added Harry.

“Yes, I want to learn how to trap, too,” put in Andy.

“I guess you can go, Pickles,” finished up Jack, and it was settled that the colored youth should become one of the party.

Pickles was so delighted that he could hardly contain himself. As soon as Rudskill was reached he ran off to tell his folks and prepare for the trip. He was gone but a short half-hour, and came back with a spear on his shoulder and an old army knapsack strapped on his back.

The sled was brought out and tied on behind the Icicle, and then, without further delay, the long-talked-of tour was begun.

“We have lost about two hours,” said Jack. “But as the breeze is stronger than ever, perhaps we can make up the lost time before nightfall.”

The wind was indeed stronger, and soon Rudskill and the surrounding settlement was left far behind.

Now that the Icicle had been recovered and they were at last on the way, all of the boys felt in high spirits. Boxy began to whistle merrily, and soon after Pickles broke out into a comic negro ditty that set them all to roaring.

It was after one o’clock when Hammerstone was reached. It being an hour later than they had anticipated, it was decided that they should procure a lunch to eat on the iceboat instead of stopping off for a meal. Jack procured the stuff—sandwiches and a big mince pie—and soon they were on the way to Rudd’s Landing, their stopping place for the night.

By four o’clock Jack calculated that they had traveled three-quarters of the distance from Rudskill.

“And if the wind holds out, we’ll be in Rudd’s Landing by seven or half-past,” he said.

By five o’clock it began to grow both darker and colder. A little later the wind died down somewhat, although it still blew sufficiently strong to keep them spinning on their course.

“Gosh! a cup of coffee wouldn’t go bad!” exclaimed Andy, who was taking it easy beside Harry, in the stern. “I’m pretty well chilled.”

“It won’t be long before we’re there, now,” replied his brother. “You can see the lights away ahead of us.”

On they went through the semi-darkness, for another half mile. They were now approaching a spot where a side creek of considerable dimensions flowed into the river.

Suddenly Pickles, who was in the bow on watch, uttered a cry of terror.

“Turn de boat around!” he screamed. “We is runin’ into de open watah!”

The others sprang up and gazed ahead. It was true; the Icicle was making directly for a wide opening in the ice, scarcely a hundred yards ahead!

CHAPTER X.
CLOSE QUARTERS.

Every one of the five boys on the iceboat was filled with terror over the danger which confronted them.

At the rate of speed they were going, the Icicle would soon reach the edge of the great opening before them, and they well knew that the onward rush would carry them far out into the icy waters.

“Stop her, somebody!” cried Andy. “We will all be drowned!”

“Everybody on the right side!” yelled Jack. “Down with the sail!”

All on board made a rush to the right, and bore heavily on the steering-iron on that side. Harry caught hold of the ropes attached to the sail, and untied them. Down came the sheet in a lump, falling partly over the crowd and dragging on the ice beside them.

The Icicle began to swing around, and also slowed up. The semi-circular motion caused the sail to get under the steering-iron, and this helped to stay their onward progress.

“We’ll have to jump!” cried Boxy. “Look how close we are getting!”

“No; we’ll stop before we get there,” returned Jack. “Hard on the iron, everybody!”

There was a sharp, rasping sound as the Icicle struck a bit of lumpy ice, and the clumsy craft trembled from stem to stern. She swung completely around, and came to a halt when within twenty feet of where the dark waters from the side creek rushed along silently.

“My gracious! but that was a close shave!” murmured Boxy, as he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

“Dat am de werry closest shabe wot I ever ’sperienced,” returned Pickles. “An’ I don’t want no moah ub dem!”

“We are not yet out of danger,” urged Harry. “An extra-heavy puff of wind may come along at any time and carry us over.”

“That’s so,” returned Jack. “Come on, boys, let’s get off and push the boat over to the west shore, where I guess we will find a solid strip to pass along on.”

His companions were not slow to follow his advice. They lost no time in moving the iceboat back a distance of forty or fifty yards, and, feeling comparatively safe here, they stopped long enough to get out their skates and put them on.

Thus equipped, it was easy to haul the craft around, and, getting behind her, they took turns in pushing her over toward the west shore, where, as Jack had supposed, there was a strip of ice all of fifty yards wide, leading to the solidly frozen river beyond.

“We want to be on the lookout for such places as this,” remarked Harry, as they boarded the Icicle once more, and hoisted the sail, which was now sadly torn in half-a-dozen places. “If it hadn’t been for Pickles we might all be at the bottom of the river this minute.”

And he gave the colored youth a grateful look, which caused Pickles to grin from ear to ear.

After that two of the boys remained at the bow, straining their eyes to see ahead.

But this extra caution was now hardly needed. Owing to the torn condition of the mainsail, the Icicle did not move as rapidly as before, and presently, when the wind died down a trifle more the clumsy craft came to a complete standstill.

“Humph! Here’s a state of things!” muttered Andy, impatiently. “And we are still two or three miles from Rudd’s Landing. What’s to do?”

“Get on our skates again and push the Icicle along,” suggested Jack.

“Boxy, you whistle for a wind, you are such a whistler,” laughed Harry, who, as there was no danger attached, was disposed to view the condition of affairs lightly.

“I’m afraid I’d have to whistle a pretty long while,” returned Boxy. “My idea is that the wind has gone down for the night, as it frequently does.”

“Dat’s it, persackly,” put in Pickles. “But I jess as lief shobe de Isticle—I’se all cold to de marrer ub my bones.”

“So am I,” cried Jack. “I’m going to push just to get warm. You had better stay on board if you feel played out,” he added, to his brother.

“No, I’ll get off, too,” replied Andy. “But I don’t believe I can shove very much; my head hurts a bit again.”

Once more all hands sprang down and donned their skates. Then Pickles, Harry, and Jack began to push the iceboat before them, while Boxy and Andy followed on behind with the sled.

It was now dark, and growing colder every minute, which was odd, so they thought, since the wind had gone down.

“We won’t get that snowstorm to-night, that’s sure,” remarked Harry. “It is always warmer just before a heavy fall of snow.”

“Maybe we’ll catch clear weather that’s cold enough to freeze the leg off a mule,” returned Jack. “Somebody said there was an intensely cold snap on the way.”

“Oh, we’re prepared for cold all right,” put in Boxy. “All you’ve got to do is to move around lively like to keep up the circulation, and you are all right.”

“Just the same I wish we were in Rudd’s Landing,” said Jack. “I don’t like this traveling on an unknown part of the river in the dark. We may not find the Landing at all.”

“Pooh! How can we help it? We know just where it is along shore.”

“Well, then, let us turn in a bit. There is no sense in keeping away out here in the middle.”

“That’s so,” said Andy. “It may be warmer in toward the shore.”

So they turned in the direction of the shore upon which was situated the town for which they were bound. The overhanging bank of the stream was fringed with bushes and trees and they skirted along just outside of these, keeping a sharp lookout for airholes and thin spots.

“Don’t want a bath just now,” shivered Boxy.

“No; a bath would just about do us up,” returned Andy. “As it is, I can hardly move along.”

“We’ll be all right when we get to Barton Coils’ place,” called back Jack. “So don’t get faint-hearted, Andy.”

On they went, with no sound breaking the stillness of the cold night save the grinding of the iceboat runners and their skates on the ice.

Suddenly from out of the darkness among the trees which lined the farthest shore came a dismal howl that caused nearly every one to jump in alarm.

“My gracious! what was that?” exclaimed Andy.

“Dat mut be a ghost, suah!” cried Pickles, as he sprang away from the voice.

“It’s the most unearthly sound I ever heard,” put in Harry.

“And don’t you know what it is?” asked Jack, with a merry laugh.

“No,” said Boxy. “What is it?”

“Nothing more nor less than the bark of a fox. There it goes again.”

“Goodness! I never knew a fox would get up such a dismal noise,” exclaimed Boxy. “Why, it’s enough to give one the creeps.”

“Wait till you get into the woods on the other side of Rock Island Lake, and you’ll hear sounds to make your hair stand on end, I’ll warrant.”

The barking continued for some time, and then came answering calls from several other locations.

“They are tuning up to descend on some hen-roost, I imagine,” said Jack. “It’s a good way to get up their courage.”

“I’d like to get a shot at one of them,” said Harry.

“So would I,” burst out Boxy. “Can’t we get at them, Jack?”

“It would take too long, I’m afraid. Andy couldn’t stand the waiting in the cold.”

“Boxy and I might wait, and you fellows go on,” suggested Harry. “We will soon catch up with you.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” burst in Boxy.

The matter was talked over for a minute, and then it was agreed that Harry and Boxy should take the guns and remain behind a quarter of an hour, while the others pressed on for Rudd’s Landing, keeping close to the river bank they were now skirting.

Seeing to it that the two guns were ready for use, the two would-be fox hunters set out across the river in the direction from which the first barks of the animals had proceeded. Meanwhile those on the Icicle and the sled went ahead, and were speedily lost to view around a broad bend beyond.

“It would be fine if we could get a fox apiece,” said Boxy, as they skated along close to one another. “We could keep the brushes as trophies.”

“I guess we’ll be lucky if we get a good shot at one of them,” returned his companion. “Foxes are very sly chaps.”

“Oh, I know that.”

“Let us go up the river a bit, so as to get out of that wind. They can smell your scent if the wind is blowing from you to them.”

They moved up the river about twenty yards, and then made a semi-circle toward the shore. Here they found a small creek, and up this they moved as silently as possible.

“We must be getting close to one of the fellows,” whispered Boxy. “That sound came from this vicinity.”

“Hush, Boxy, he may——”

Harry did not finish, for at that instant a bark sounded so closely to them that both sprang back in alarm. A little open glade was before them, and directly in the center of it both boys discovered a silver gray fox, standing with one forefoot raised, listening for an answer to his call.

CHAPTER XI.
A LUCKY SHOT.

Boxy was about to say something, but Harry quickly placed his hand over his companion’s mouth and motioned him to remain silent.

Then he raised his gun, and pointed to Boxy to do the same.

A brief interval of silence followed, and then, bang! went Boxy’s gun, before he had had time to take anything like a correct aim.

The shot spread out over the fox’s head, and caused him to leap to one side in alarm.

“Didn’t I hit him?” cried Boxy.

Bang! went Harry’s gun. His aim was better than Boxy’s, and off limped the fox on three legs, the left hind one having received part of the charge of shot.

“You hit him, even if I didn’t!” yelled Boxy. “But he’ll get away from us, I’m afraid!”

“Hurry and load up!” cried Harry. “We can get him if we try.”

They reloaded the guns with all possible speed, running after the fox as they did so. It was hard work with the skates on their feet, and just as they got the animal again in sight Boxy tripped and went down on his knees in a hollow.

His gun went off as he tumbled, and the shot grazed the fox’s neck, causing a painful wound.

The animal let out a yelp of rage, and turned to leap down into the very hollow into which Boxy had tumbled.

“Shoot him, Harry!” cried the boy, in sudden terror. “He’s coming after me!”

Boxy was partly right. As the fox reached the bottom of the opening he spied Boxy, and, feeling ugly, he did not attempt to get away, but sprang directly for Boxy’s face.

It was a thrilling moment, for, though small, a fox is exceedingly savage when aroused, and with his long, sharp teeth can do serious damage.

Boxy squirmed to one side, and the animal landed on his shoulder. He buried his teeth into the boy’s overcoat, snapping and snarling as he did so.

Then a loud report rang out, as Harry fired. He was not over three yards away, and his aim was true. The fox received the greater part of the shot in his side, and, with a backward leap he tumbled over dead.

It was several seconds before Boxy managed to scramble to his feet. He was as white as a ghost, and trembling in every limb.

“Is he—he dead?” he gasped, as he surveyed the fox from a slight distance.

“I guess he is, but there is nothing like making sure, he is such a sly creature,” responded Harry, and, going up, he struck the head of the animal a resounding blow with the butt of his gun. “Yes, he’s dead enough.”

“It was lucky you hit him,” went on Boxy, gratefully. “If you hadn’t he would have chewed me up.”

“He was a tough customer, and no mistake,” rejoined Harry. “See what a splendid white tail!”

“He’s a pretty big one. Will you take him along as he is?”

“I’ll have to; I can’t skin him here very well. Do you want to go after another?”

Boxy gave a shiver.

“Not to-night,” he returned. “I’ve had enough hunting for the present. It’s something a fellow has got to get used to.”

“I doubt very much if we could get another,” remarked Harry. “The shots have probably scattered them from the neighborhood. They know what a gun will do just as well as we.”

Harry brought out a string from his pocket, and with this tied the dead fox to the barrel of his gun, which he slung over his shoulder.

“Our quarter of an hour is up and more,” remarked Boxy, as they turned to go back to the river. “The others must be close to Rudd’s Landing by this time.”

“I guess you are not as cold as you were,” laughed Harry. “I feel as warm as toast now.”

“Yes, such an adventure is enough to stir up any one’s blood,” rejoined Boxy, dubiously. “But I’d just as lief remain a bit cold hereafter.”

“You may expect greater adventures than this when we get to our winter camp, Boxy. Supposing that fox had been a bear, or even a big wolf?”

Boxy did not reply to this. Somehow, just then the camping out did not seem so much sport after all.

They were soon on the river, and, crossing to the other shore, started after their companions.

It was growing colder every moment, and the breeze on the ice, little as it was, went through them like a knife. They were glad enough when they saw numerous lights ahead, which they knew must be the town for which they were bound.

Presently they came upon a party of skaters, and from them learned that the Icicle had passed on but a few minutes before. They kept on, and just before Barton Coils’ boathouse was reached, they overtook their companions.

“Got a fox, sure enough!” cried Andy. “Who shot it?”

“Harry, and he saved my life doing it,” replied Boxy, and, hardly waiting to catch his breath, he told his story, to which those who had gone on ahead listened with keen interest.

By the time Boxy had finished, the boathouse, at which the Icicle was to be left, was reached, and, leaving the iceboat and the sled in a safe place, all hands rushed into the building to warm up around the red-hot stove, which to them looked to be just then the most inviting thing in the world.

Barton Coils, a jolly man of forty, received them cordially, and soon made them feel at home.

“I’ll bet ye had a most uncommon cold run of it,” he said. “And a cup of hot coffee will be just the thing to warm your inwards, eh?” and he straightway set about preparing, not only coffee, but a whole hot supper for them in his tiny kitchen in the rear.

By the time supper was ready, they were somewhat rested. They crowded around his small table like so many famished wolves, and it was astonishing to see how rapidly the food disappeared. Luckily, he had sufficient on hand, so no one went short.

Barton Coils took a lively interest in the proposed expedition, and declared he almost wished he was one of the party.

“It would make me feel ten years younger,” he said.

“Why can’t you go?” asked Jack. “I am sure we would all be pleased to have you along.”

“I can’t leave here, that’s the trouble,” returned the boathouse keeper. “Otherwise, I would accept your kind offer in a minute, I would, indeed.”

He asked them about their traps, and told them of several additional things it would be best to take along. Andy made a note of the articles, and before retiring went up into the town and procured them.

“You’ll find your Icicle all right when you come back for her, never fear,” said Coils to Jack.

“I know we shall,” said Jack. Then he began to talk to the others, and they all nodded in the affirmative. “See here, we have a proposition to make,” he went on. “There is no use allowing the iceboat to remain idle during our absence, and we have decided to let you hire her out to the town folks if you will. Whatever you can get that way will be yours.”

“Well, boys, I didn’t expect this.” And Barton Coils smiled his gratitude.

“It will be better to keep the runners scoured up than let them grow rusty. But the sail will have to be mended.”

“I’ll fix that all right; and much obliged to you all,” replied the boatkeeper.

There was a large spare room over the boathouse, and in this the boys spent the night, lying on the floor in their blankets in true camping style. Barton Coils would have given them a couple of old cots, but they declined these, for the reason, as Pickles put it, “dat da wanted fo’ to git ust to sleepin’ on de hard side of jess nowhere.”

When the members of the Zero Club arose they found the day as clear as could be wished. The sun was just peeping over the distant hills and not a breath of air was blowing.

“Boom-a-rah! boom-a-rah! boom! boom! boom!” sounded out Boxy, imitating a big drum. “All up, for there is no time to lose if we want to reach the shores of Rock Island Lake before nightfall.”

“Right you are,” cried Jack. “Fold up the blankets and make your toilets just as quickly as you can. Pickles can see to the repacking of the sled, while I hunt around for breakfast.”

“Breakfast is all ready!” put in Barton Coils, poking his head up the ladder-way. “I was just going to rouse you out.”

In a jiffy one and another made their toilets, and climbed down into the kitchen. The smell of the buckwheat cakes filled the apartment, and a big platter of them were ready to be eaten, along with some maple syrup fresh from the grove back of the landing.

“Here’s where I am struck right in my soft spot!” cried Andy. “I’ll miss the buckwheat cakes, if nothing else!”

“Then you had better fill up well,” laughed Barton Coils. “Here you are, smoking hot! Who’ll have the next?”

Forks and knives were clattering right merrily for the next ten minutes. The buckwheat cakes were washed down with hot coffee and cream, and soon all were more than satisfied.

Then came a farewell shake of the hand with the boathouse keeper, and a final inspection of their traps.

“Now we’re off!” cried Jack. “Hurrah for the tour of the Zero Club!”

“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried the others, and Barton Coils joined in, waving his towel over his head as he did so.

Off they started, through the little town. The last house was soon left behind. Before them lay nothing but hills, woods and a frozen lake. Their outing in the ice and snow had truly begun.

CHAPTER XII.
JACK BECOMES LOST.

“Dis am de most glorious trip wot ever was, by golly!” cried Pickles, as he shoved on ahead of the rest, dragging the sled behind him. “Dis coon is werry glad he is alibe jess about now, boys!”

And in the exuberance of his spirits, Pickles broke out into an old darky refrain about the history and death of a wonderful “Blue-tail Fly,” the chorus to which was so catchy that they were soon every one of them singing it.

“I’m glad he came along,” whispered Jack to Harry. “He’ll make days we can’t go out seem shorter.”

“So am I, Jack, Pickles is just the fellow for this crowd.”

The boys had received close directions concerning the best route to pursue to reach the lake, and they were careful that no mistake should be made. They followed a road almost half through what was called Jackson’s Run, and then struck off across a number of open fields to where a tiny stream ran at the foot of a long hill.

“That creek empties into Rock Island Lake,” said Boxy. “I know, for I was up here once in the summer, and my uncle told me so.”

“Then why can’t we follow the stream until we reach the lake,” suggested Andy.

“We could do that if it wasn’t that the stream winds around so much,” put in Jack. “In a direct line the lake is not over twelve miles from here, but like as not that stream would take us thirty or forty miles.”

“Not quite as far as that, but still a pretty good way,” said Harry. “I know these creeks around here twist and turn in all directions.”

“We’ll stick by the original intention, and be guided by the sun,” said Boxy. “Come on, Harry, I’ll race you to the top of the next hill!” and off he sped, with Harry at his heels.

When the top of the hill was reached both boys were well-nigh exhausted, and ready enough to sit down on a fallen tree and wait for the others to come up.

“You shouldn’t do that,” remonstrated Jack. “You’ll tire yourselves out before you have covered half the day’s journey.”

“And you’ll get sweated and take cold,” put in Andy.

“If you feel so frisky, help Pickles with the sled,” went on Jack.

“We will,” cried both Harry and Boxy, and they at once relieved Pickles, much to his satisfaction, for the pull up the hill had been by no means an easy one.

And so, “cutting up like wild Indians,” as Jack expressed it, they continued on their tramp, up one hill and down another, crossing half-a-dozen tiny streams, and making their way through dense woods and thick patches of brush and heaps of rocks. Occasionally they roused up a squirrel or a rabbit, and once the loud drumming told them that partridges were not far off.

Just before the noon hour Jack took his gun, and kept his eyes open for rabbits. It was not long before he shot two, and when they came to a halt for dinner these were quickly skinned and broiled over the fire Pickles kindled.

“We want to be as saving as possible with our stores,” observed Harry, as he sat, sucking the meat from a rabbit leg. “We may get snowed in so that we can’t get out to shoot a thing.”

“The first thing to do will be to lay in a supply of rabbits and squirrels,” returned Jack. “Then, if we get nothing better, we won’t starve, no matter what happens.”

“That’s a good idea!” cried Andy. “Rabbit meat is better than nothing, even if you have it three times a day.”

The meal finished, the things were quickly put away once more, and again the onward march was resumed.

The character of the country now changed somewhat. The hills became higher and harder to climb, and the undergrowth more rugged. More than once they had to turn back and seek another path because they could not get through without carrying the sled and its load. Once they came to a deep ravine, all of ten feet wide, with no crossing place in sight.

“Stumped!” cried Boxy. “Now what’s to be done?”

“Let’s walk along this side for a few hundred feet,” suggested Harry. “It may grow narrower further up.”

“I’ll stay here with the sled until you find out,” replied Jack, who had just taken hold. “It’s no use to pull it along, and then have to drag it back. If you find a place, yell out, and I’ll come.”

Harry and Boxy went on, accompanied by Pickles. It was no easy work to follow the edge of the ravine, for in several places the ice and snow were treacherous, and ready to let them slide down should they venture too close.

At last they reached a spot where the opening was scarcely five feet wide.

“We ought to be able to cross here,” said Boxy.

“Dat am so,” put in Pickles. “Why, I kin jump it, suah! See here!”

And he made a wild leap over, and disappeared into a hollow filled with snow on the other side.

“He’s gone!” shouted Boxy.

“He’s all right,” returned Harry, as he saw Pickles’ woolly head slowly emerging from the drift.

“By golly, I didn’t fink dat was so slopy heah!” sputtered the colored youth, as he stood up in snow to his waist. “If I hadn’t jumped so fah I’se dun reckon I would hab gone an’ rolled down to de bottom ob de crack suah!”

“That settles it; we can’t cross here,” said Harry. “Let us go on a bit further.”

They continued along the edge of the ravine, Pickles keeping up with them on the other side. Fifty feet further on the cut closed up almost entirely, and they easily stepped across.

“This beats running any risk jumping,” said Harry, and Pickles readily agreed with him.

All three of the boys set up a shout for the others, and it was not long before Jack and Andy appeared with the sled. The latter was lifted over the narrow opening, and then the club continued on its way, Pickles again bursting out into a song, this time singing about “Forms in White, a-Floating in de Sky.”

“Just now it was a case of a form in black a-floundering in the snow,” remarked Boxy to Harry, and the latter laughed heartily over the joke.

“We ought to be getting near to the lake now,” said Jack, about four o’clock in the afternoon.

“That’s so,” said Andy. “If we get there much later than this there will be no time left to build a shelter for the night.”

On and on they went, taking turns at dragging the sled with its heavy load. The sun was pretty well down, and it began to grow colder.

“The lake, at last!” suddenly burst from Boxy’s lips, and he ran ahead, quickly followed by the others.

Boxy was right. A short dash through a clump of trees, and they stood on the shore of Rock Island Lake. Before them was a broad expanse of glass-like ice, dotted here and there with long drifts of snow.

“Hurrah!” they all shouted, and Pickles added: “An’ dis ends de day’s trabbels ob de Zero Club.”

“Now for a good spot to pitch camp,” cried Jack. “I can’t say that I like it right here.”

“No; it’s too cold,” returned Harry. “Let’s go back a little, say a hundred feet or so, and find some sort of shelter behind some rocks.”

This was readily agreed upon, and the boys scattered in various directions, each trying to find a more suitable spot than the others.

Harry struck out up the lake shore a bit, and presently came to a spot where two immense rocks leaned against each other over a little gully, scarcely a yard deep and two yards wide. The gully was dry, and filled with leaves, and he thought that if the snow was cleared out and banked up in front, it would be just the place they desired. The opening under the rocks was about ten feet deep, and the rear was choked up with fallen branches, brush, and dirt.

He called to the others, and soon all but Jack were by his side.

“That’s the ticket!” cried Boxy. “We couldn’t find a better place made to order.”

“We can spread the rubber blankets over the leaves, and it will make good bedding,” said Andy.

“An’ dat dar snow will keep out all de cold,” put in Pickles. “Yes, de prize goes to Harry fo’ findin’ de right spot.”

“Where is Jack?” asked Harry, anxious to have all of the members of the club satisfied before it was settled to stay. “Maybe he has discovered a better spot.”

They all set up a shout, and waited for an answer. But none came. Then they shouted again, with the same result.

“That’s queer!” murmured Andy, somewhat disturbed. “Give him another call, boys, as loud as you can.”

They did so willingly, and Boxy added his imitation locomotive whistle as well.

It brought forth no reply. Jack was lost to them. What could have become of him?

CHAPTER XIII.
JACK’S EXPERIENCE.

When Jack left the other members of the Zero Club to look for a suitable camping-place for the night, he had no intention of walking any great distance away.

He struck down the lake shore, in a direction directly opposite to that taken by Harry, and at almost right angles to that pursued by the others.

Jack walked probably fifty yards before coming to anything but a flat surface of snow and ice, with here and there a tree or a bush.

“This is no good,” he murmured to himself. “I’ve a good mind to go back and try in the other direction.”

Had he done so, he might have saved himself all the trouble that followed, and likewise saved the others from a deal of anxiety concerning his welfare.

But Jack remembered that Harry had gone off in the opposite direction, and so he kept on until he reached a small rise of ground, beyond which was a dense thicket of great trees, some all of a hundred feet in height.

“There ought to be a first-rate place among those trees,” he thought. “I’ll investigate a bit and see.”

Jack walked in among the trees and soon located a spot between several tall maples that he thought would be just the thing. Five trees were in a semi-circle, and he calculated that by heaping the brush around them a temporary shelter that would be both safe and warm would be secured.

He walked around the trees, and then to a spot a few yards away, where brush grew thickly.

Here both the snow and the leaves were thick, and without warning he suddenly found himself sinking down in the midst of both.

He tried to scramble to a place of safety, but it was too late and down he went into an opening that was all of ten feet deep. The leaves and snow tumbled with him, and he was all but smothered.

When at last he managed to get his head clear of what was around him, he found himself up to his armpits in the mass, and almost powerless to move the lower portion of his body.

Jack was not one to cry for help, so, for a while, he remained silent, doing his best to extricate himself from his difficulty.

It was very cold down at the bottom of the hole, and, despite his exertions, he found himself gradually getting chilled to the bone. It was also dark, and this made his situation worse than had it been daylight.

At last, in desperation, he wrenched himself away from the snow and rubbish, and freed himself as far as the waist. But higher than this he could not get, for every time he attempted it he only slipped back again.

A half-hour was passed in trying to extricate himself, and by that time he was so worn out he was unable to make further effort.

“This is the worst fix yet,” he muttered, to himself. “If I stay here I’ll be frozen to death before morning,” and he gave a shiver which was not altogether from cold.

It was then that he began to shout for help. His voice was weak, and it is doubtful if it could have been heard thirty feet from his prison.

A quarter of an hour more went by, and Jack was almost stiff. His feet were like two cakes of ice, and his ears pained him fearfully.

“Where can the others be? Why don’t they come and help me out?”

He asked himself these questions over and over again. But no answer was vouchsafed. It was as if the other members of the Zero Club had forgotten his existence.

Presently Jack heard a rustle in the bushes in front of him. Was it one of the other boys on the hunt?

Then a low growl made him start and strain his eyes in the direction. What was it, a fox, wolf or bear? He looked up at the entrance to the hole, but no animal showed itself.

Again he yelled, this time not only to summon assistance, but also to scare away the beast, whatever it was. A crashing in the brush followed, and then dead silence.

“He’s gone away,” he muttered, with a sigh of relief. “But who knows but what he’ll come back, or some other animal will meander this way. Oh, if I was only out of this hole I’d take precious good care that I didn’t get into another.”

Ten minutes more—an age to poor Jack—and another rustle in the brush was heard. Then followed a shout:

“Hullo, Jack! Where are you?”

It was Harry’s voice, and it thrilled him with joy.

“Here I am, in a hole,” he replied.

But, alas! his voice was so faint that Harry did not hear it, and passed to his left and continued the search in that direction.

“Help! help!” cried Jack, frantically. “This way! In a hole! Help!”

Harry did not hear, but Andy, who was also close at hand, did, and shouted to the others:

“He’s here, fellows! Come this way!”

“Where?” asked Boxy and Pickles, in a breath, while Harry quickly retraced his steps.

“Somewhere around here. Listen.”

Again Jack called out, and now they were able to locate him. Andy was in advance, and his companions were amazed to see him disappear as suddenly as if he had taken a plunge in the water.

“There’s a hole there. Be careful!” shouted Harry.

“Dat mus’ be a b’ar hole!” put in Pickles. “Pooh Andy’s dun gone in it, too!”

“Help us out!” yelled Andy, from beside Jack. “This is a sort of a cave-in, and Jack is half buried under the dirt and snow.”

“We’ll have to get the rope and haul them out,” remarked Boxy. “Run back for it, Pickles.”

The colored boy skipped off at top speed. While he was gone, Boxy and Harry skirted the opening with great care, and found the most available standing place.

When Pickles returned, he brought with him the sled rope, and also the one used for tying on the load. These were twisted together, and, not without some difficulty, Andy was raised up.

Then came the work of raising Jack. This was no easy task, for the poor fellow was almost too exhausted to even catch hold of the rope.

“We’ll make a loop, and he can slip it under his arms,” suggested his younger brother, and this was done, and presently Jack stood beside the others, supported by Boxy and Pickles.

“Take me to some place where I can get warm!” he gasped.

“We’ll run you back to the place where the sled is and cover you up with blankets,” replied Boxy. “Come on, it’s the best thing for you.”

And off he and Pickles started, with the half-frozen boy between them.

Harry and Andy ran ahead and worked like lightning to gather dry brush and start a fire in the shelter of several trees. It was not long before they had a big blaze, and Jack was seated on the sled in front of this with several blankets thrown over his back.

“I’ll be all right in a little while now,” he said. “So you fellows had better turn your attention to locating a camp for to-night.”

“Harry has found a place,” said Boxy. “It’s just the thing, between a couple of big rocks.”

While Andy remained behind to keep up the fire and prepare supper, Harry, Boxy and the colored youth went off to prepare the camp.

“We’ll take all the snow out first,” said Harry. “Then we’ll make a wall in front, with only a narrow opening to get in, and shut up the back as tightly as we can.”

The three boys went to work with a will, and inside of half an hour the temporary camp was ready for occupancy. The sled was drawn inside, and the rubber blankets spread around, and then the fire was transferred to a spot directly in front of the opening.

“That will keep us warm, and also keep wild animals from bothering us,” said Harry.

“Yes; we want no wolf or bear to wake us up by biting off an ear or a foot,” laughed Boxy.

“Gee, shoo, no!” put in Pickles. “Dat would make dis yere coon turn white, ’deed it would!”

Just before they had reached the lake, Boxy, anxious to prove that he wasn’t such a poor shot that he couldn’t shoot anything, had gone off in search of a partridge, and succeeded in bringing down one of fair size. This Andy had prepared as nicely as possible, and, with bread and tea, made a most appetizing supper for the hungry boys.

“This is the last of the fresh bread,” remarked Andy, as he dealt it out. “After this we’ll have crackers instead.”

“Just as good,” returned Boxy, but before the tour was over he was compelled to change his mind.

The supper over, the boys found it growing late. They gathered some wood and heaped it upon the fire in such a way that it might burn the greater part of the night, and then sought to retire.

“We want to be up early in the morning,” remarked Jack, who now felt quite recovered. “It looks a little like snow, and we want to strike a permanent camp before it lets down too heavily.”

“Well, I’m ready to go to sleep,” returned Boxy. “And I won’t even ask Pickles to sing a lullaby for me.”

One after another the boys crawled into the cave-like sleeping place, and selected their various corners. Andy brought in a pine knot, all ablaze from the fire, and held it aloft so that they might see if all was right.

A second later Pickles gave a yell, which was followed by a cry of fright from every one of the others. Then a hasty scramble was made for the outside, the boys fairly tumbling over each other in their efforts to escape.

And small wonder, for the interior of the cave-hut was alive with snakes!

CHAPTER XIV.
A FIGHT WITH REPTILES.

“Snakes!” yelled Pickles. “Fo’ de land sakes, let dis chile git out!”

“Snakes!” echoed each of the others. “We can’t stay in here!”

And in less than half a minute every one was outside and several yards away from the entrance to the temporary camp.

“Whoever dreamed of the reptiles being there!” burst out Boxy.

“We might have known it,” put in Harry. “Snakes always live around rocks.”

“But why didn’t we see them first?” questioned Andy.

“They were out of sight and half-frozen,” responded Jack. “I suppose our moving around and the heat from the campfire roused them up.”

“Wot we gwine to do?” asked Pickles, dolefully. “I wouldn’t go back dar fo’ a billion dollars in cash, by golly, I wouldn’t!”

“The blankets and the sled are in there,” put in Andy. “We must get them.”

“Yes, we can’t even locate another camp until we have them,” said Harry. “We’d freeze to death without covers.”

“I move we fight the snakes and kill them,” remarked Jack. “I don’t believe they are very harmful.”

“They may be rattlers!” said Boxy, with a shiver. “And I don’t want to ‘climb the golden stair’ just yet.”

“I doubt if they are rattlers,” returned Jack. “And even so, they are not yet warm enough to show much fight. The likelihood is that we can kill them off without much trouble.”

The boys talked the matter over, and at length decided to make an attack on the snakes, and thus at least gain possession of their traps. Then if the cave-hut still looked “snaky” they would hunt up a new spot in which to spend the night.

Each of the boys provided himself with a torch and a club, and then the opening to the place was enlarged to twice its size.

Jack was the first to enter, and the others came closely behind him.

The leader quickly killed the first snake to raise its head, and Harry followed with the death of the largest of all of the reptiles. Then torches were stuck up in convenient places and the battle began.

At first the snakes were easy victims, but soon the noise and the deaths of their fellows roused up those that remained, and a loud hissing and a lively squirming told that they were angry.

They darted to one side and another, and more than one attempted to strike the boys with its fangs.

Harry had the most startling experience of all. A snake dropped from a crevice overhead and landed directly on his neck. The sensation shocked the boy, but he was quick to act. He caught the snake by the tail, swung it around, and dashed its head with all his force against the solid walls of the hut-cave. The reptile was instantly killed.

Andy also had a thrilling experience, a snake winding itself around his ankle, and refusing to loosen itself even when caught back of the neck by the courageous boy.

“Hop out and hold him over the fire a second,” cried Jack.

Out on one foot went Andy, still holding tight to the reptile. When close to the fire, he let go, and thrust the foot over the flames. On the instant the snake straightened out and fell into the fire, before either the boy’s boot or his trousers were very much injured.

At last the snakes were all either killed or driven off, and the boys took a breathing spell. They counted up the slain, and with the one consumed by fire, found they numbered fourteen.

“That’s a pretty good many in one dose,” remarked Jack; “especially when some of them are pretty nearly three feet long.”

“I never want to run across such a nest again!” shuddered Harry; and all agreed with him.

“There were at least half a dozen that got away,” remarked Boxy. “I saw three crawl in between the rocks.”

“So did I,” returned Andy. “We don’t want to put in any night in this place.”

“By golly, no!” cried Pickles. “I dun radder tie myself up on de limb ob a tree and risk gittin’ freezed to deaf!”

The sled and the blankets were hauled out of the hut-cave, and examined to see that no live snake was anywhere in hiding among them. Then they gathered around the fire to talk matters over.

Jack mentioned the spot he had found among the tall maple trees just before he had fallen into the hole, and they decided that they would locate there for the night. Once more the traps, and a large portion of the burning brush, were removed, and they set to work with all speed to furnish themselves a resting-place.

“Now, if this doesn’t turn out all right, we’ll bunk around the fire in the open,” said Jack, and the others said so, too.

The extra blankets were tied up around the trees, and against these were heaped brush and leaves. Then the interior was cleaned up, and the rubber blankets put down once more.

The work took less than half an hour, and when it was completed the boys had a camp that if not quite as warm as the other might have been, was still dry and sheltered.

“We’ll build an extra large fire, and that will keep us warm,” said Andy.

“Yes, but we don’t want to wake up an’ find ourselves burnt to deaf,” cautioned Pickles.

“That’s so,” put in Jack. “Be careful that the leaves are cleaned away around the brush before you build the fire too high.”

Once again brush was gathered, and the fire fixed to everybody’s satisfaction, and then all hands retired into the new camping hut, and sought their various places of rest.

It was a strange experience to all of them, and it is doubtful if any of them slept, saving by fits and starts, until toward morning. The fight with the snakes was still in their minds, and, as Boxy aptly put it, “they could see snakes just as plainly as if they had been off on a spree.”

Pickles was the first to stir himself in the morning, while it was yet dark. The colored boy sat up, and, seeing his companions still slumbering, decided to go out, start up the fire and begin preparing breakfast without disturbing them.

He arose to his feet, and, throwing down his blanket, stepped over to the entrance to the hut. Then a low cry of surprise escaped him, a cry that made all of the others open their eyes.

“What’s the matter?” cried Harry.

“It’s dun gone an’ snowed de fiah cl’ar out ob sight!” returned Pickles.

“Snowed the fire out of sight is good,” laughed Boxy. “Well, let’s hustle and shovel it in sight again, for it’s as cold as the North Pole in here!”

“And it’s colder yet outside,” replied Jack, looking out of the doorway Pickles had opened. “The snow is coming down lively, boys, and we must lose no time if we want to get across the lake and settle down.”

Every one was soon outside, Boxy and Andy with their blankets still drawn around them. Both were used to sleeping in heated bedrooms, and the cold seemed to pierce them to the very marrow of their bones.

“Hustle around to start up the fire, and that will warm you up,” suggested Harry. “Come, everybody pitch in, for it’s half-past seven, and we want to be on our way by eight o’clock, or a little after.”

They did pitch in with a will. While Pickles, Boxy, and Andy started up a big, lively blaze, and got together something to eat, Jack and Harry took down the blankets and packed the things on the sled.

Presently Pickles slipped off down to the lake, taking the ax and a spear with him.

“He’s gone to spear a pickerel or some other fish,” said Boxy, and he was right, for it was not long before the colored boy returned with a beauty, weighing all of a pound and a half, which was soon broiling over the flames.

It was still snowing, and the boys had to fairly brush the flakes from what they were eating during the meal. Jack calculated that already three inches had fallen on the level.

“And before night we’ll have a foot or two of it unless it clears off,” he added. “So be lively, fellows!”

“Can we skate over the lake?” questioned Andy.

“That would be much easier than walking.”

“Yo’ can skate ober all right,” replied Pickles. “De wind has dun kept mos’ ob it cl’ar, ’ceptin’ in spots.”

“Oh, but this is fine fish!” cried Boxy. “Pickles, you mustn’t forget that you promised to show me how to spear them.”

“So I will, when we gits ober to de reg’lar camp,” replied the colored youth, smiling broadly at the praise bestowed.

By quarter-past eight they put out the fire, placed the last of the things on the sled, and set out. Down on the surface of the lake they found a cold wind blowing from the northwest, and the snowflakes appeared to be thicker than ever.

CHAPTER XV.
LOST IN THE SNOW.

As they had done the day previous, they took turns in drawing the sled, which, fortunately, rode over the surface of the ice easily.

Pickles was the first to try a hand. Jack and Harry went on ahead, while Andy and Boxy came close behind the traps.

All of the boys had their collars turned high up and their caps pulled well down. Yet the snow crept in, and more than once they could scarcely see ahead of them.

“It’s not going to be such a bang-up, pleasant trip across, to my way of thinking,” remarked Jack. “The snow is coming down heavier every minute.”

“Well, we’ll make a beeline for the opposite shore,” returned Harry. “If we keep on pushing like this, we ought to make it by a little after noon, and that will give us plenty of time to select a spot for a permanent camp before night comes.”

“That’s true.”

“There is one thing we must guard against, and that is airholes. This drifting snow is apt to cover them so a fellow can’t see them until it is too late.”

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled,” returned Jack, and he called out instructions for those behind to do the same.

On and on they went, keeping the straightest line they could without anything to aid their eyesight. It was still colder as they got farther from the shore, and occasionally a blast of wind would nearly take them from their feet.

“There is one thing we forgot to bring along, and that’s a compass,” said Harry. “It’s a pity, too! If we had it the way need not bother us in the least.”

“I thought of it yesterday, after we had left Rudd’s Landing. But I hated to go back after one.”

Once or twice a flock of wild birds would circle over their heads in the snow, and they would take a shot at them. In this manner they brought down ten of the creatures, which, though small, would make dainty eating. Jack and Harry placed them in their bags, and continued to keep their eyes open for more.

About ten o’clock the wind began to blow stronger than ever. It was little short of a hurricane, and took the boys fairly off their feet.

“By golly! dis ain’t no picnic, am it?” cried Pickles, as he went sailing up the lake, unable to stop himself.

“Lower your sails, Pickles!” cried Boxy, who looked at the difficulty in the light of a joke. He had to dig his heels deep into the ice to keep himself from following the colored youth.

Jack was drawing the sled. A dozen times it swung around, and just as he thought he had it right, the wind got under it, and over it went in a trice, spilling off several things that had not been packed on well.

With much trouble the sled was righted. Pickles fought his way back, and helped tie the traps fast, this time making sure that not a single thing was left loose.

“It won’t do to lose even a plate,” said Andy. “For there are just enough for the crowd and no more.”

“If this keeps on, we’ll have a blizzard!” gasped Harry. “It fairly takes one’s breath away!”

“Have to keep your mouth shut or you’ll swallow a lot of snow, too!” put in Boxy. “By the looks of things around us, one would imagine we were out on the plains of Montana!”

“The best thing we can do is to stop talking and fight our way to the shore,” remarked Jack, seriously. “The first thing you know, we’ll be turned around, and we won’t know in what direction the shore is.”

Once again they moved forward. The snow beat on the right sides of their faces and filled their right ears, and, unconsciously, they turned a little away, and thus took a course which led them partly up the lake instead of directly across.

By twelve o’clock they were nowhere near the woods they knew was beyond the edge of the lake. All around them were ice and snow. The wind had let up a bit, but the snow was whirling down thicker than ever.

“I’m getting played out,” said Andy.

“And I’m hungry,” added Boxy.

“And I’m a bit of both,” put in Harry. “Let us rest a few minutes and have a bite to eat.”

Pickles was more than willing, and at once went to work to get out crackers and cheese. Jack looked on with a doubtful face.

“We’ll have a bite, but don’t waste time resting,” he said. “We must go on, or night will overtake us while we are still on the lake.”

“Why, it’s only twelve o’clock!” cried Andy.

“That’s so, but the shore is still a good way off, and if we get lost——”

“Oh, we won’t get lost,” put in Boxy. “We all know just where the shore is.”

“And where is it?” questioned Jack, still more seriously.

“Right over there,” and Boxy pointed with his arm.

“Why, no, it’s over in that direction,” cried Andy, pointing nearly at right angles with Boxy.