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[Illustration: "JIM GOT IN AT LEAST ONE GOOD BLOW."]

THE ICE QUEEN

by

ERNEST INGERSOLL

Author of
"Friends Worth Knowing," "Knocking Round the Rockies," etc.

Illustrated

New York
Harper & Brothers, Franklin Square

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, by
Harper & Brothers,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

All rights reserved.

CONTENTS.

      CHAP.
         I. THROWN UPON THEIR OWN RESOURCES
        II. "THE YOUNGSTER'S" PLAN
       III. FITTING OUT THE "RED ERIK"
        IV. MAKING A START
         V. COMFORT IN A LOG CABIN
        VI. NORSE TALES
       VII. THE FIRST DAY ON THE LAKE
      VIII. JIM'S REBELLION
        IX. SKATING BY COMPASS
         X. AN UGLY FERRIAGE
        XI. CAMPING AGAINST AN ICE WALL
       XII. SNOWED UNDER
      XIII. SAVED FROM STARVATION
       XIV. THE ARCTIC VISITORS
        XV. CHRISTMAS BIRD-CATCHING
       XVI. HOW TUG MADE "TWITCH-UPS"
      XVII. THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE
     XVIII. RESCUING THE WANDERERS
       XIX. ADRIFT ON AN ICE RAFT
        XX. A NIGHT IN AN OPEN BOAT
       XXI. THE ESCAPE TO THE SHORE
      XXII. REX FIGHTS UNKNOWN ENEMIES
     XXIII. EXPLORING THE ISLAND
      XXIV. THE WILD DOGS AGAIN
       XXV. THE PERILS OF A MIDNIGHT SEARCH
      XXVI. FINDING SNOW-BIRDS AND LOSING THE CAPTAIN
     XXVII. ANOTHER ENCOUNTER WITH THE WILD DOGS
    XXVIII. THE ACCIDENT EXPLAINED
      XXIX. DECIDING UPON A NEW MOVE
       XXX. KATY TAMES THE WILD DOGS
      XXXI. ABANDONING THE ISLAND
     XXXII. AN ASTONISHED FARMER
    XXXIII. THE "TIMES" CORRESPONDENT
     XXXIV. A HAPPY CONCLUSION

ILLUSTRATIONS.

    "JIM GOT IN AT LEAST ONE GOOD BLOW"
    DISCUSSING THE PLAN
    "A MOMENT LATER THEY WERE OFF"
    SUPPER IN THE LOG CABIN
    "LAY ON!"
    CROSSING THE HUMMOCK
    JIM AND KATY BRINGING THE RUSHES TO CAMP
    "THE LITTLE FIRE WAS SOON BLAZING MERRILY"
    CAMPING AGAINST AN ICE WALL
    "A SHARP REPORT WAS HEARD"
    KATY TRAPPING THE SNOW-BUNTINGS
    SETTING THE NEW TRAPS
    "REX STRUCK OUT AND SWAM ACROSS"
    "THEY WERE ABLE TO DRAG HIS LIFELESS FORM OUT UPON THE ICE"
    "TRY TO STEADY HER"
    THE CABIN ON THE ISLAND
    ATTACKED BY THE DOGS
    "DON'T CRY, KATY!"
    "'IS HE DEAD?' ASKED JIM"
    REPAIRING THE OLD SCOW
    "'WA'AL, I DECLARE!'"

THE ICE QUEEN.

Chapter I.

THROWN UPON THEIR OWN RESOURCES.

The early dusk of a December day was fast changing into darkness as
three of the young people with whose adventures this story is
concerned trudged briskly homeward.

The day was a bright one, and Aleck, the oldest, who was a skilled
workman in the brass foundry, although scarcely eighteen years of age,
had given himself a half-holiday in order to take Kate and The
Youngster on a long skating expedition down to the lighthouse. Kate
was his sister, two years younger than he, and The Youngster was a
brother whose twelfth birthday this was.

The little fellow never had had so much fun in one afternoon, he
thought, and maintained stoutly that he scarcely felt tired at all.
The ice had been in splendid condition, the day calm, but cloudy, so
that their eyes had not ached, and they had been able to go far out
upon the solidly frozen surface of the lake.

"How far do you think we have skated to-day, Aleck?" asked The
Youngster.

"It's four miles from the lower bridge to the lighthouse," spoke up
Kate, before Aleck could reply, "and four back. That makes eight
miles, to begin with."

"Yes," said Aleck, "and on top of that you must put--let me see--I
should think, counting all our twists and turns, fully ten miles more.
We were almost abreast of Stony Point when we were farthest out, and
they say that's five miles long."

"Altogether, then, we skated about eighteen miles."

"Right, my boy; your arithmetic is your strong point."

"Well, _I_ should say his feet were his strong point to-day," Kate
exclaimed, in admiration of her brother's hardihood.

"It wasn't a bad day's work for a _girl_ I know of, either," remarked
Aleck, as he took the key from his pocket and opened the door of their
house, which was soon bright with lamplight and a crackling fire of
oak and hickory.

The house these three dwelt in was a small cottage in an obscure
street of the village, but it was warm and tight. Kate was
housekeeper, and The Youngster--whose real name was James, contracted
first into Jim, and then into Jimkin--was man-of-all-work, and
maid-of-all-work too, sometimes, when Kate needed his help.

While these two are getting tea, and Aleck is carefully wiping the
skates and putting them away where no rust can have a chance at the
blades, or mice gnaw the straps, let me tell you a few things about
the family.

Jim could remember his father only vaguely, but Kate and Aleck could
tell us all about him. His name was Kincaid, and he was a
master-builder of houses. He had bought and fitted up the cottage, and
had put savings in the bank, though Mrs. Kincaid was sick much of the
time, so that money was spent that would have been laid by "for a
rainy day" if she had been strong and well.

Unfortunately, the rain came sooner than any one thought for. One day,
about five years before the beginning of our little history, papa was
brought home hurt by falling from a scaffold at the top of a house. He
was not dead, and all thought he would be well again in a few weeks at
most; but instead he grew slowly worse, and after a time died.

Then the poor mother, always weak, did the best she could, and Kate
tried to help her, while Aleck stopped his school-going, and went to
work in the brass foundry. At first, though, he could earn but a
little, and Mr. Kincaid's savings slowly melted away until almost
nothing was left. Then the tired and desolate mother, never strong,
bade her children that long farewell that seems so terribly hopeless
to all of us when we are young, and the three "mitherless bairns" were
thrown upon their own resources.

The question arose as to what they should do. Jim was now eight years
old, and going to school. Kate had not neglected to do some studying,
and a great deal of reading, too, though she had always been so busy;
and a few weeks before her mother's death she had begun to study
regularly with a lady who lived near, whom Katy repaid by picking
various small fruits as they matured in the lady's large garden.
Aleck, as I have said, was working steadily, and getting enough wages
to keep them all in fair comfort, since they owned the house and
enough garden to give them plenty of vegetables. So, after talking the
prospect over, they decided to stay in their little house and live
together. A letter was written to Uncle Andrew, in Cleveland, who had
offered Kate and Jimmy a home, telling him they would try it alone a
while before burdening any of their friends.

This decision had been made almost four years before my story opens,
and it had not been regretted. They had even saved some money, but the
larger part of this had been spent in repairing the house, and in
fitting up a new boat for Jim and one of his friends, who thought they
knew a way to make a little money in the summer vacation if they had a
good boat. This boat had been completed only in time to prove how
good it was, before the winter had closed the river with ice at an
unusually early date, and now the pretty craft was safely stored in a
warehouse at the schooner-landing, a mile below the town.

All slept very soundly after their skating holiday--even Rex, the
great Newfoundland dog, who was a member of the family by no means to
be overlooked; but their ears were not stopped so tight that the
clangor of the church bells about midnight failed to arouse them with
its dreadful alarm of fire. Hastening to an upper window, one glance
at the blaze-reddened heavens showed our friends that the group of
factories in the southern part of the town was burning, and one of
these was the brass foundry where Aleck worked.

Aleck hurried away, and they did not see him until after sunrise, when
he came home tired, wet, and soot-blackened. The whole shop had burned
to the ground, he reported, and it was only by great risk and exertion
that he had been able to rescue his father's precious chest of tools.

"I didn't think," said the young man, as he sat wearily down to Katy's
hot coffee, "that my job would be so short when McAbee told me
yesterday I could work there 'as long as the foundry lasted.'"

During that day and the next Aleck tried every possible chance of
employment in the village, but found nothing; and by the time evening
came he had made up his mind that no regular employment equal to his
old place was to be had there for months to come.

There was no doubt about it. The time had arrived when they must avail
themselves of Uncle Andrew's kindness, and seek in his hospitable
house at least a temporary home.

Chapter II.

"THE YOUNGSTER'S" PLAN.

"You see," said Aleck, "though I've about seventy-five dollars ahead,
yet when we have bought what we shall need, there will not be more
than forty dollars left. Now, if we go to Cleveland in the cars and
take our things with us, it'll cost us twenty-five dollars or more,
and leave us almost nothing to get started with there."

"S'posin'," said Jimkin the Wise, "s'posin' we don't go in the cars.
Cleveland's on the lake, and the lake's all ice; let's skate down to
uncle's!"

"Humph!" grunted Aleck.

"Pshaw!" said Kate.

"Didn't we skate eighteen miles yesterday, and couldn't we have gone
farther?" persisted Jim, unabashed.

"It's more than a hundred miles to Cleveland. Think you could do that
in one day? Besides, how would you know the way?"

"Didn't say I could do it in one day. But couldn't we go ashore and
stop at night? That's the way the Hall boys did, who skated up to
Detroit last winter."

"I read in the newspaper yesterday," said Kate, "that the lake was
frozen uncommonly hard, and was solid ice all the way along the shore
as far as the headlands of Ashtabula."

"If we could be sure of that," Aleck admitted, "there might be some
use in trying; but one can't be sure. Besides, how could we take along
our baggage?"

"Pull it on a sled," said Kate, "the way they do in the arctic
regions. Men up there just live on the ice, sleep at night and cook
their food and travel all day, and they don't have skates either.
Gracious! Who can that be?"

No wonder Katy was astonished, for there came echoing through the
house a noise as if somebody was pounding the wall down with a stone
maul. Aleck hastened to put a stop to it by opening the door.

He was greeted by the grinning face of a round-headed, chunky lad
nearly his own age, named Thucydides Montgomery; but as this was too
long a name for the Western people, it had been cut down very early in
life to "Tug," which everybody saw at once was the right word, on
account of the lad's strength and toughness. The mammas of the village
thought him a bad boy, getting their information from the small boys
of the public school, whom, in his great fondness for joking, he would
sometimes frighten and tease.

Aleck knew him better, and knew how brave and goodhearted he was. Jim
had good cause to be fond of him, for, in behalf of The Youngster,
during his first week at school, Tug had soundly thrashed a bullying
tyrant; while Kate gratefully remembered various heavy market-baskets
he had carried for her, since he lived near by. A closer tie between
our little family and their visitor, however, was the fact that, like
them, he was an orphan, and, like them, had relatives in Cleveland,
whom he had often thought he should like to be with better than
staying with his aunt here in Monore.

When Tug had joined the circle gathered before the big fireplace, and
had begun to talk about the brass-works, he was promptly hushed by
Aleck.

"Put that up now, and attend to me. This urchin here, who has become
very cheeky since he began to go to school--"

"And came under my care," Tug interrupted, loftily.

"Yes, no doubt. Well, The Youngster finds we all want to go to
Cleveland, but can't afford the railway fare, and so he coolly
proposes that we skate there."

"Well, why don't you do it? I'll go with you," said Tug, quietly.

Jim shouted with triumph. Kate laughed, and clapped her hands at the
fun of beating her big brother, and Aleck looked as though he thought
he was being quizzed.

"Do you mean it?" he asked.

"Of course I do. I want to go down as badly as you do. I haven't any
stamps, and the walking, I'm told, isn't good. I prefer to skate."

"Katy says we might drag our luggage on sleds, as they do in the
arctic regions; but supposing the ice should break up, or we should
come to a big crack?"

"I have read," Kate remarks again, "that they carry boats on their
sledges, and pack their goods in the boats, so that they will float if
the ice gives way."

"Take my boat!" screamed Jim, eagerly.

"That would call for a big sled."

"Well, didn't you two fellows build a pair of bobs last winter big
enough to carry that boat?"

"Doubtful," answered Aleck. But when they brought out the plan of the
boat, and then measured the bobs, which were stored in the woodshed,
they found them plenty wide, and Tug was sure they were sufficiently
strong.

Kate looked at them rather dubiously, and said she had never read of
arctic boats mounted on heavy bobs, but that they always seemed in the
pictures to have long, light runners under them; but Jim reminded her
curtly that "girls didn't know everything," so she kept still, and the
planning and talking went on.

Young people who are under no necessity to ask permission of older
persons, and, besides, are pushed by circumstances, decide quickly on
a plan which looks forward to adventure. Generally, I fear, they come
to grief, and learn some good lessons rather expensively; but
sometimes their energy and fearlessness carry them safely through what
the caution of old age would have stopped short of trying to perform.

[Illustration: DISCUSSING THE PLAN.]

They sat up pretty late discussing the plan, but before Tug went to
what he said he "s'posed he must call home," they had determined to
try it if the weather held firm.

This was on Friday. They hoped to get away early in the coming week.
Then all three went to bed, Jim jubilant, and looking forward to a
long frolic; Kate half doubtful whether it was best, but hopeful;
Aleck sure that, for himself, he didn't care, hating to put his sister
and brother to any risk, yet seeing no better way of resisting
poverty; Tug resolute, and bound to stand by his friends, whatever
happened. So they slept, and bright and early next morning the quiet
preparations began, Tug declining to answer any questions as to how he
arranged the matter of his going with his aunt.

Chapter III.

FITTING OUT THE "RED ERIK."

The first thing was to settle upon their preparations.

"What will you want to take, Tug?"

"Precious little, I guess. Besides my clothing, which won't make much
of a bundle, I don't own much except my shot-gun, and my weasel-trap,
and my odds-and-ends chest, and some hooks and lines. I'm going to
sell all the rest of my duds."

"Who'll buy 'em?" asked Jim, doubtfully.

"Never you mind who, infant. 'This stock must be closed out below
cost,' as the old-clo' men say. I can put all my baggage in a
nail-keg."

"Then that's fixed," Aleck remarked. "Now for _you_, Katy?"

"I think the little trunk that was mamma's, and my handbag for brush
and comb and such things, will hold all that belongs to me--that is,
of my own _own_," she replied, laughing. "Of course, the cooking
things, and so on, belong to all of us."

"Well, Jim, your traps and mine will go into the other little chest, I
think--at any rate, they must. Now for the general list."

The general outfit was then talked over for more than an hour, when,
looking at his watch, Aleck said:

"Now this plan all depends on what luck I have in renting the house. I
heard yesterday that Mr. Porter (the owner of the burned factory)
would have to leave the hotel, and wanted to find a small furnished
house. I am going to see if I can't let ours to him."

So Aleck went off, and Tug and Jim started down to examine the boat,
study how much she would hold, and see what would be the best way of
mounting her upon the bobs, which they spoke of as "the sledge." They
were not back until afternoon, and found that Aleck had just come in,
full of success. Mr. Porter would rent the house, and would allow them
a closet in which to store all the small goods they wished to leave
behind.

"Now, what about the boat?" he asked, as he concluded the story.

"She'll do beautifully. Jim and I think we'd better deck her over from
the mast forward, and cover it with painted canvas, so as to make a
water-tight place to stow the provisions."

"That's a good idea."

"We thought you'd say so, and so we took exact measurements, and can
make a deck here, and fasten it on down there."

"All right; now, how do you think we'd better fasten the boat to the
sledge?"

"That's where we want you to help us decide. I don't believe its
weight is great enough to hold it firm."

"It's the first thing to be arranged," said Aleck, "and after dinner I
guess we'll have to go down to the wharf."

An hour later the three boys were standing beside the boat, gazing
first at it and then at the pair of strong bobs they had brought
along.

"We must take that coasting-board off the bobs and put in a heavy
reach-pole pretty near as long as the boat, that's certain," said Tug.

"And," spoke up Jimmy, "we've got to prop her up on the sledge so
she'll stand even, and won't tip."

"Yes, you're both right," Aleck agreed. "The best way is to saw chairs
out of two-inch plank which will just fit her bottom, and in which she
will sit solidly."

"But," Tug broke in, "that won't hold her firm in the racket she has
to go through. She must be bound down to that sledge, and I reckon the
best way is to draw bands of stout canvas--big straps would cost too
much--over the boat, from one side of the sledge to the other."

They examined and re-examined, but could none of them see any better
plan; so they measured, and on their way home bought enough of the
heaviest duck to make three bands, each three inches wide.

This transaction brought out a bit of Tug's loyalty. As Aleck took out
his purse to pay for the canvas, Tug pushed his hand away and laid a
dollar bill on the counter.

"You can just put up your cash," he cried. "This is my affair. If you
fellows furnish the boat and sledge and all the rest, I'm going to
pay, myself, for what new stuff we have to buy. It's little enough I
can do, anyhow."

With this view there was no use of arguing, and Tug had his way that
day and during all the rest of the preparation, spending the whole of
his savings and the money received from the sale of his books and
"contraptions."

While Tug sawed out the chairs, and screwed and spiked them firmly to
the sledge that evening, the other two boys worked at the bands, and
Katy sewed. They all sat in the kitchen, in order to be where Tug
could work, and before they went to bed both tasks were nearly done.

The next day was Sunday.

On Monday the sledge was finished, and the boat was set upon it.
Tacking tightly over it the canvas bands, two in front and one towards
the stern, the whole affair proved almost as stiff and firm as though
formed of one piece.

"What was the boat's name?" you may feel like interrupting me to ask.

It had not been christened yet, but when, as they sat by the fire on
Sunday evening, Katy read aloud the story of "Red Erik," they all
agreed that that was the name they wanted.

Now the _Red Erik_ was fitted to carry one mast, which passed through
a hole in the forward thwart, and was stepped into a block underneath.
The sail carried by this mast was a square sail of pretty good size,
supported by a gaff at the top and a boom at the bottom. When it was
not in use it was rolled around the mast, the gaff and boom being laid
lengthwise along with it; and by wrapping the sheet around, the whole
was lashed into a bundle, which lay very snugly upon the thwarts under
one gunwale, where a couple of leather gaskets were buckled about it
to keep it from sliding. There was also a jib-sail.

While they were overhauling this gear, the question of what they were
to do for a tent came up, and Katy asked whether the sails could not
be made useful for that purpose.

Certainly, the mainsail was large enough to form a very decent shelter
when stretched over a low ridge-pole, but it needed loops of rope at
the ends in order to be pegged to the ground and thus held in place.

"But there ain't any ground, and you can't drive wooden pegs into
ice," objected Katy, at this point of the planning.

"Then," said Aleck, "we shall have to get half a dozen iron pegs, and
I have some railway spikes that will be just the thing."

"That's so," said Tug. "Take 'em along. Now, the next thing is poles.
The gaff will do for one, but the other one we'll have to make,
because we want to use the boom for a ridge-pole."

"Then I'll tell you how we'll fix it," Aleck explained. "We'll put an
eye-bolt in the far end of the boom, and call that the front end of
the tent. We'll make a front upright post out of hickory, and have the
lower end of it shod with iron, so as to stick in the ice--"

"Hold up! I've a better idea than that even," Tug exclaimed. "I
suppose you want to save carrying any more timber than you can help.
Well, let's cut off the handle of the boat-hook--that's hickory--until
it is the right length, and its iron point will stick in the ice, or
the ground (if we set her up ashore) first-rate. Then we'll go to the
blacksmith, and have a cap made with a spike in it to go through the
eye in the end of the boom. When we want to use the boat-hook we can
take the cap off."

"That's a good way; but how about the gaff?"

"Set a short spike in the far end to stick in the ice, and let the
ridge-pole rest in the jaws of the gaff; the canvas will hold her
steady."

"Yes, I suppose so. You're an inventor, Tug. Go down to-morrow and get
the irons made."

Meanwhile, as I said, loops were sewed on the sail, and it was thus
arranged to serve as a tent. It had a queer shape when set up in the
yard on trial, for the sail was broader at one end than the other,
though it did very well indeed. An end piece was lacking; but this was
supplied by putting on tapes so as to tie the broad foot of the jib to
one edge of the rear of the tent, while the sharp top end was folded
around on the outside and tied to one of the side pegs. For the front
they could do no better than hang up a shawl or something of that
kind, if needed, since they decided that a few yards square of spare
canvas which they had must be kept for a carpet upon the ice floor.

This done, there remained to screw into the forward end of the sledge
two eye-bolts, to which the ropes were to be attached for dragging the
boat. Each of these ropes was about twelve feet long, and had at one
end an iron hook, so as to be put on and taken off very quickly. Three
of them were prepared, but, as you will see, it was rare that more
than two were ever in use at once on the march. They could easily be
hooked together into one long line, however; two of them would serve
as end-stays when the tent was set up; and they were often of the
greatest importance to the young adventurers, in enabling them to
overcome difficulties, or to extricate themselves from some perplexing
or dangerous situation.

All these arrangements, by hard work, were finished on Tuesday
evening, the very last task being the making of a box with
double-hinged covers, which should fit snugly under the stern-thwart.
This was to be the kitchen chest or mess kit, holding the cooking
utensils and dishes. When its two covers were spread out and propped
up it formed a low table.

Chapter IV.

MAKING A START.

Katy, meanwhile, had been looking after clothing and provisions. On
Tuesday evening, when Tug came in after tea, she was ready to read to
him a full list, as follows:

BOAT OUTFIT.--Sailing and rowing gear complete; one piece of spare
canvas three yards square; one oil lantern and a gallon of oil; one
compass; a locker under the stroke-thwart, containing calking-iron,
oakum, putty, copper nails, gimlet, screw-driver, screws, sail needle,
thread, wax, etc.

CAMP OUTFIT.--Tent (_made out of the sails_), pegs, poles, etc.; one
axe; one hatchet; one small handsaw; one shovel; one clothes-line; one
mess chest, containing the fewest possible dishes, tin cups, knives,
forks, etc., also a skillet, a coffee-pot, etc.; one iron kettle; one
covered copper pail.

PERSONAL BAGGAGE.--One trunk for Aleck's and Jim's clothing; one trunk
for Katy's clothing; Tug's box (_clothing, and what he says are
"contraptions"_); small valise for Katy's toilet necessaries and other
small articles.

BEDDING (_tied up in close rolls_).--For Aleck, three blankets and a
thick quilt.

For Jim, the same.

For Tug, three blankets and a piece of old sail-cloth.

For Katy, a buffalo-robe trimmed square, two flannel sheets, three
blankets, and a heavy shawl.

Thick woollen nightcaps or hoods for all.

FOOD (_enough to last two weeks, it is supposed, and consisting
chiefly of the first seven articles named_).--Corn-meal, coffee,
sugar, crackers, dried beef, bacon, and ham; also small quantities of
potatoes, beans, dried corn, tea, chocolate, maple sugar, buckwheat
flour, and condiments. (Katy did not count the luxuries of the first
day's evening meal.)

All these supplies, as far as possible, were put into bags made of
strong cloth or of heavy paper, or into wooden boxes, and then were
stowed under the forward deck. To carry them and the rest of the
luggage down to the wharf, a box was fastened upon Jim's hand-sled,
and several trips were made.

At last Wednesday afternoon came, and the preparations for the
adventurous journey were complete. All the morning had been spent by
Tug and Jim in packing away goods in the boat, while Aleck and Kate
finished the home-leaving, bringing down a final sled-load with them
about two o'clock. Besides this, Katy's arms were full of
"suspicious-looking" bundles, as Tug noticed, the contents of which
she refused to let any one know before night.

The boat lay hidden underneath the warehouse wharf, and of the few who
knew of their intentions nobody seemed to have let out the secret;
moreover, the day was unusually cold and somewhat windy, so that few
skaters were out, at least, so far down the river. Thus they were not
annoyed by inquisitive visitors. Ten minutes after Aleck and Kate
arrived the final package had been stowed, the mantle of canvas spread
over, the oars and rolled-up tent laid on top, and Tug announced
everything ready.

"Then let's be off," said Aleck, as he buckled the last strap of his
left skate, and stood up.

"Not till you give the word of command, Captain."

"Captain!" echoed Jim, standing very straight.

"Captain!" Kate caught up the word, and made a funny girlish imitation
of an officer's salute. "Not till you give the order, sir!"

"Oho!" laughed Aleck. "That's election by acclamation, I should say!
All right; only, if I'm to be Captain, remember you must do as I say
at once, and save any arguing about it until afterwards. When you get
tired you can vote me out as you voted me in. Will you agree?"

"Yes--agreed!" cried all three.

"Then my first order is 'Forward!'" and so saying he seized a
drag-rope and sent the sledge-boat spinning out upon the smooth ice
far from under the shadow of the wharf, showing how easily it could be
run in spite of its weight, which was not less than five hundred
pounds.

[Illustration: "A MOMENT LATER THEY WERE OFF."]

A moment later they were off on the first strokes of a trip that
proved far more eventful than any of them anticipated--Aleck with the
drag-rope, Tug by his side, Jim pulling his sled, Rex leaping and
barking, and Kate bringing up the rear with her hands on the
stern-rail of the boat. Two or three boys and men called after them,
and one followed a little way, but he was sent back with short
answers, and in a few moments the church spires, the big, bell-crowned
cupola of the High School, and the lofty spans of the railway bridge
had been left far behind. Not much was said, for even heedless Jim
felt that this was a serious undertaking, and the pleasant scenes they
had known so long might never be revisited.

Chapter V.

COMFORT IN A LOG CABIN.

The pain of this farewell did not long cloud their faces. Tug and Jim
had had no luncheon, and were growing anxious for something to eat.
Down at the mouth of the river stood a small cabin, often occupied in
early spring by the sportsmen who went for a day's duck-shooting in
the great marshes that spread right and left on both sides of the
stream. It was buried among big cottonwood and sycamore trees, and was
pretty snug. Besides, it had a fireplace, into which somebody had
stuck a long iron bolt pulled out of some bit of wreckage on the
beach, and which served as a great convenience in the rude cooking of
the sportsmen.

At this cabin our party proposed to spend the first night. They
thought it would be an easy letting down from sleeping in their beds
at home to the tenting they feared they might have to do afterwards.
Katy had been the one to suggest this, and Tug had earnestly supported
the idea.

"Things don't seem so hard when they come upon you gradually, as the
kind-hearted man said when he cut off his dog's tail a little piece at
a time, so the pup wouldn't mind it."

The sun was just disappearing straight up the river behind them as the
cabin came in sight; and before its half-closed door

    "'All _bloody_ lay the untrodden snow,'"

as Kate exclaimed, misquoting her "Hohenlinden" to suit the red glow
of the rich evening light.

"Hurrah for supper!" screamed Jim; and with an extra spurt they swung
the boat up to the bank.

A little sweeping with a broom made of an alder branch cleared the
cabin of the snow that had blown into the cracks and fallen down the
mud-and-stone chimney. This done, Aleck called to them to listen to
his first orders, which he had written down in a note-book, and now
read as follows:

     CAPTAIN'S ORDER NO. 1.--Any order given by the Captain must be
     obeyed by the person to whom it is addressed, unless his reason
     for not doing so will not keep till camping-time; merely _not
     liking_ the duty is no excuse.

     CAPTAIN'S ORDER NO. 2.--The Captain will say when and where
     camp shall be made, and immediately upon stopping to camp the
     duties of each person shall be taken up as follows: the
     Captain shall secure the boat, get out the tent, and proceed to
     set it up; Tug shall take the axe and get fuel for the fire;
     Kate shall see to the building of the fire and the preparation
     of food; Jim shall help Kate, particularly in carrying articles
     needed, and in getting water; and all, when these special
     duties are finished, shall report to the Captain for further
     duty.

     CAPTAIN'S ORDER NO. 3.--Any complaints or suggestions must be
     made in council, which will commence after camp work is
     completed and supper is over, and not before.

"There," said Aleck, "do you agree to that?"

"Yes--agreed!" shouted three voices in chorus.

"Then pitch in, all of you; you know your work."

At this Tug seized the axe, Aleck and Jim went to the sledge, and Katy
began to kindle a little blaze on the hearth with some bits of dry
wood she found lying about, so that when Tug had brought an armful of
sticks, a good fire was quickly crackling. Then the iron pot, full of
water, was hung upon the old spike, where the blaze began curling
around its three little black feet in a most loving way.

"Jimkin," called the girl to her brother, who was gazing with delight
at the bright fire, "Jimkin, bring me all those paper packages at the
stern of the boat, and be careful of the white one--it's eggs."

"I guess there won't be much tent to set up to-night, Aleck," he
remarked, as he found the Captain, who had hauled the sledge well up
on the bank and tied it securely to a tree, now busy in dragging out
the sail.

"No," was the reply, "but the canvas'll come handy. Tell Tug I say
he'd better get a big heap of wood together, for we're going to have a
cold night. The wind has turned to the north, and is rising."

When he had taken the canvas up to the cabin, he called Jim to help
him, and they brought in the mess chest, the rolls of bedding, and the
piece of spare canvas which had covered the prow. Then, telling Jim to
take the little sled that had been dragged behind the boat, and haul
to the door the wood Tug had cut among the trees not far away, Aleck
seized the shovel and began heaping snow against the northern side of
the house, where there were many cracks between the lower logs. But
his hard work to shut them up in this way seemed to be in vain, for
the wind, which was blowing harder and harder every minute, whisked
the snow away about as fast as he was able to pile it up. Kate,
stepping out to see what he was about, came to his rescue with a happy
thought.

"I read in Dr. Kane's book of arctic travels, that when they make
houses of snow they throw water on them, which freezes, and holds them
firm and tight. Couldn't you do that here? It's cold enough to freeze
anything."

Aleck thought he might, and bidding Kate go back to her fireside, he
called the other boys to help him; then, while Jim stuffed the cracks
with snow, Aleck and Tug alternately brought water from a hole cut in
the river ice, and dashed it against the chinking. Some of the water
splashed through, and a good deal was tossed back in their faces and
benumbed their hands, so that it was hard, cold work; but before long
a crust had formed over the snow-stuffed cracks, and Katy came to the
door to say that she couldn't feel a draught anywhere. The roof was
pretty good, and when, tired and hungry, but warm with their exercise
(except as to their toes and fingers), the three lads went in and shut
the door, they found their quarters very snug, and didn't mind how
loud the gale howled among the trees outside. Rex, especially, seemed
to enjoy it, curling down at the corner of the fireplace as though
very much at home.

Meanwhile Katy bustled about, setting out plates, knives, and forks on
the top of the mess chest, which she had covered with the clean white
paper in which her packages had been wrapped. She had put eight eggs
to boil in the kettle, which were now done, and were carefully fished
out, while the coffee-pot was bubbling on the coals, and letting
fragrant jets of steam escape from under the loosely fitting cover. A
cut loaf of bread lay on the table, and beside it a tumbler of currant
jelly, "as sure as I am a Dutchman"--which was Tug's favorite way
of putting a truth very strongly indeed, though he wasn't that kind of
a man at all. The eagerness to taste this sweetmeat brought out the
melancholy fact that by some accident there was only one spoon in the
whole kit.

[Illustration: SUPPER IN THE LOG CABIN.]

"We'll fix that all right this evening," Aleck remarked. "I'll whittle
wooden ones out of sycamore."

"Shall I broil some mutton-chops, or will you save those for
breakfast?"

"Broil 'em now," cried Jim.

"Hold your opinion, Youngster, till your elders are heard," was Tug's
rejoinder. "I vote we save 'em."

"So do I."

"And I."

"Done," says Captain Aleck. "Give us the chops for breakfast, Miss
Housekeeper."

"Then supper's all ready," she said, and took her seat on a stick of
wood, pouring and passing the coffee, while the eggs and the bread and
butter went round. By the time the meal was finished it had become
dark, but this did not matter, since there was no need to go out of
doors.

"How shall I wash the dishes?" asked Katy, with a comical grin, as she
rose from the table. "I couldn't bring a big pan."

"Well," suggested Aleck, "you can clean out your kettle, refill it
with water--Jim, there's business for you!--and then wash them in
that."

"That's a matter never bothered me much when _I_ was camping," added
Tug, dryly. "I just scrubbed the plates with a wisp of grass, and
cleaned the knives and forks by jabbing 'em into the ground a few
times."

While the dishes were washing Aleck opened the tent bundle, and laid
the mast across two pegs that somebody had driven into the north wall
of the room just under the ceiling beams, perhaps to hang
fishing-poles on. Then, with Tug's aid, he tied to the mast the inner
hem of the sail-cloth, which thus hung loosely against the wall, like
a big curtain, shutting out every draught.

"That's splendid!" cried Katy, watching them from the end of the room
where the fire was.

"So is _this_!" came a voice from overhead, making them all look up in
surprise.

It was Jim, who, unnoticed by any one, had clambered into the loft,
which had been floored over about two thirds of the room, and who was
now thrusting his red face down through the open part.

"What do you think I've found?"

"Give it up. I knew of a man who died after asking conundrums all his
life," answered Tug, gravely, "and I've fought shy of 'em since."

"Tell us at once, Jimkin," called out Aleck.

"_Straw!_" shouted Jim.

"Pshaw!" was the next rejoinder heard.

"No rhymes, Katy," Aleck admonished. "Is it clean, Youngster?"

"Cleaner than he is, I should say, by his face," said Tug, and with
some reason, for the loft was dusty.

"Don't know; you can see for yourself," and down came a great yellow
armful.

It was pounced upon, and, proving dry and fresh, the delighted Jim was
ordered to send down all he could find, which was laid on the floor,
not far from the fire, and covered with the spare canvas. This made a
soft sort of mattress, upon which each one could spread his blankets,
and sleep with great comfort, since there was plenty for all.

"Sha'n't have so good a bed as this another night," groaned Aleck.

"Can't tell--maybe better!" said the cheerful Tug.

The warmest place was set apart for Katy, and Aleck made a small
screen, covered with a newspaper curtain, which separated her from the
other three, who were to sleep side by side. These preparations made,
the fire was heaped high with fresh wood, and then the little quartet
took their ease, lounging on the springy straw before it, and
indulging in a quiet talk over the busy day just finished, or what
they were likely to meet on the morrow.

Aleck said something about being able to travel by compass in case
they were caught in a snow-storm, which was what he dreaded the most,
when Jim asked him to explain the compass to him, leaving Katy's side
and going over to where his big brother was stretched out at the other
corner of the fireplace. The girl, thus deserted, went to the valise
in which she kept her small articles, and came back with a book.

Chapter VI.

NORSE TALES.

"What are you reading?" asked Tug, who was the last boy in the world
to be interested in a book, unless it was one about animals, but who
had nothing else to do just then.

"A book of old stories."

"What about?--adventures, and things of that sort?"

"Partly. Some of them are fairy stories--about queer little people,
and animals that talk, and heavenly beings that help lost children,
and people that have hard times."

"Why, those are the very fellows we want to see. Let's hear about
'em--mebbe we can give 'em a job."

"Well, if you would like it, I'll read you this story I've just
begun," said Katy, good-naturedly.

"Much obliged. I think that would be tip-top."

So Katy read to him, as he lounged on the straw and gazed into the
bright fire, an old myth-story of the North Wind. How, away in a far
corner of Norway, there once lived a widow with one son. It was
midwinter, and she was weak, so the lad was obliged to go to the
"safe" (or cellar dug near the house, where the food was kept) to
bring the materials for the morning meal. The first time he went, and
the second, and again, at the third attempt, the fierce North Wind
blew the food out of his hands. These three losses vexed the lad
greatly, and he resolved to go to the North Wind and demand the food
back. After long travelling he found the home of the giant, far
towards the pole, and made his demand. The North Wind heard him, and
gave him a cloth which would serve all the finest dishes in the world
whenever the boy chose to spread it and call for them. On his way home
he stopped at a tavern for the night, and, spreading his cloth, had a
feast. The landlady was astonished, as well she might be, and thinking
what a useful thing such a tablecloth would be in a hotel, she stole
it while the lad was asleep, and put in its place one that looked like
it, but which had no secret power.

The lad, not suspecting the change, went home, and boasted gleefully
to his mother of what he had brought. But when he tried it, of course
the false cloth could do nothing, and the old lady both laughed at him
and scolded him. Vexed again, the lad hastened back, and accused the
North Wind of fraud. So the giant gave him a ram which would coin
golden ducats when commanded. Stopping at the tavern as before, the
landlord exchanged this remarkable animal for one from his own common
flock, and the lad found himself fooled a second time. Going back a
third time, he told the story to the North Wind, who gave the angry
lad a stout stick which, when it had been told to "lay on," would
never cease striking till the lad bade it to stop.

At the tavern, the landlord, thinking there was some useful
enchantment in the stick, tried to steal it also, but the boy was wide
awake. He shouted, "Lay on," and the landlord found himself being
clubbed till he was nearly dead, and gave back all that he had taken.
Then the boy went home, and he and his mother lived rich and happy
ever afterwards.

Tug's vigorous applause aroused the attention of the other two, who
may have been listening a little, and Aleck asked what the book was.

"Dr. Dasent's 'Norse Tales,'" Katy replied.

"Who or what is 'Norse'?" Jim inquired.

This was a question Tug had been wanting to ask too, but had felt
ashamed to expose his ignorance--one of the few things not really mean
which a boy has a right to be ashamed of.

"The Norse people," Katy said, "are the people of Scandinavia (or the
_Northmen_, as they were called in ancient times), and these stories
are those that old people have told their children in Norway and
Sweden for--oh! for hundreds of years. Many are about animals, and
others--"

"Give us one about an animal," Tug interrupted.

Very well, here's one that tells why the bear has so short a tail:

     One day the Bear met the Fox, who came slinking along with a
     string of fish he had stolen.

     'Whence did you get these?' asked the Bear.

     'Oh, my Lord Bruin, I've been out fishing, and caught them,'
     said the Fox.

     So the Bear had a mind to learn to fish too, and bade the Fox
     tell him how he was to set about it.

     'Oh, it's an easy craft for you,' said the Fox, 'and one soon
     learned. You've only to go upon the ice, and cut a hole, and
     stick your tail down into it; and so you must go on holding it
     there as long as you can. You're not to mind if your tail
     smarts a little; that's when the fish bite. The longer you hold
     it, the more fish you'll get; and then, all at once, out with
     it, with a cross pull sideways, and with a strong pull too.'

     Yes; the Bear did as the Fox said, and held his tail a long,
     long time down in the hole, until it was fast frozen in. Then
     he pulled it out with a cross pull, and it snapped short off.
     That's why Bruin goes about with a stumpy tail to this day.

[Illustration: "LAY ON!"]

When this short and stirring tale of a tail had been concluded, the
Captain's voice was heard.

"Now for bed!" he ordered, winding up his watch, whose golden hands
pointed to nine o'clock.

Partially undressing, they tucked themselves into their quilts and
blankets on the crackling straw, and silence followed. Sleep was slow
to close the eyes of the younger ones, who were kept awake by their
strange situation; and Rex, lying at Katy's feet, frequently raised
his head as the roaring wind shrieked through the tall trees outside,
or rattled a loose board in the roof with a strange noise.

The first one to awake next morning was Aleck, who looked at his watch
by the glimmer of the coals, and was surprised to find it after eight
o'clock, though only a gray light came through the little window of
the cabin. Creeping out, he raked the embers together, laid on some
fresh wood, and hung the kettle on the spike. Then he called his
companions, who sat up and rubbed their eyes.

"Katy, you lie still till the boys go off. We'll bring you some water,
and then you can have the house to yourself for a while. Get out of
this, you fellows! Jim, bring a pail of water for the cook. Tug, you
and I will go and see how the boat has stood the night."

Two minutes later they were gone. After Jim had brought the fresh
water (he was slow about it, because he had to rechop the well-hole)
the girl sprang up to make herself neat, and was busy at breakfast
when the boys pounded the door like a battering-ram with the
axe-handle, "so as surely to be heard," and begged to know if they
might come in.

"Good-morning!" she greeted them. "How is the weather?"

"Weather!" exclaimed Tug, spreading his hands before the fire, and
working his ears out from underneath a huge red comforter just as I
have seen a turtle slowly push his head beyond the folded skin of his
neck. "Weather! It's the roughest day I ever saw. I don't believe old
Zach himself could skate a rod against that wind."

(Zach was a six-foot-three lumberman in Monore, who was noted for his
great strength.)

"Then how can we go on?" asked Katy, dropping eggshells into the
coffee-pot.

"I'm afraid we can't," Aleck said, soberly; "at least, until this gale
goes down. It is very, very cold, and I'm sure we are much better off
here. Don't you all think so?"

"_You_ bet!" shouted Tug.

"You _bet_!" Jim echoed.

"Then I must worry about dinner," said Katy, with a pretended groan
which made them all laugh.

At breakfast came the promised chops. Then, while Katy and Jim set
the cabin into neat shape, the older lads went after more wood, and,
having done this, walked out to the neighboring marsh and cut great
armfuls of wild rice and rushes, with which to make their straw beds
thicker and softer. This, and other things, took up the morning, and
then all came in to help and hinder Katy while she got dinner.

When it had been set out they found half a boiled ham, potatoes, some
fried onions ("arctic voyagers always need to eat onions to prevent
scurvy, you know," Katy explained), and even bread and butter; but the
last item represented almost the end of their only loaf.

In the afternoon the wind moderated, the clouds that had made it so
dark in the morning cleared away, and the sun came out. Under the
shelter of the long wharf and breakwater they walked out on the ice to
the lighthouse, where they had been so often in midsummer; but now it
was shut up, for there would be no use in burning a signal-light on
the lake after the cold weather of the fall had put a stop to
navigation, until spring recalled the idle vessels.

Supper was simple, but they had lots of fun over it, and then all set
at work to help Aleck make straps of canvas to put over the shoulder
and across the breast when they were hauling on the drag-rope. This
contrivance saved chafing, and gave a better pull. Jim had pooh-poohed
the taking of a sail-needle and some waxed twine along as
unnecessary, but Aleck had persisted; and here was its service the
very first day. Before the trip was through with, everybody wanted a
hundred little articles they did not possess, worse than they would
have missed this sail-needle had it not been brought.

Chapter VII.

THE FIRST DAY ON THE LAKE.

No howling gale disturbed their rest that night, and on the next
morning, which was Friday, the third day out, breakfast had been
disposed of long before the hour of rising on the previous day. What
had they for breakfast? Hot and tender buckwheat cakes, with syrup
made from maple sugar melted in a tin cup. The boiled ham and some
crackers were put where they could be got at easily for luncheon.

The stowing of the loose goods in the boat took no longer than Katy
required to get the mess kit packed after breakfast. As the day was
fine, and the ice, as far as they could see to the southward, whither
their course lay, was smooth and free from snow, the sled was loaded
with cut wood and rushes, ready for making a fire, and Jim was
appointed to drag it.

As they were leaving the cabin, after a last look to see that nothing
had been forgotten, Katy spoke up:

"Why can't we take along some of this nice straw? It doesn't weigh
anything to speak of."

"Oh, we can't," says Jim, crossly. "Girls are always trying to do
things they know nothing about."

"May's well begin to rough it now as any time; can't expect a cabin
and a straw mattress every night," was Tug's somewhat gruff remark as
he went to the sledge.

"But," the girl persisted, rather piqued when she saw how her
suggestion had been received, "it might be very nice to spread it on
the floor of the tent. Seems to me you might take it."

She was talking to Aleck now, who, she knew by his face, opposed the
plan; but he, seeing how much in earnest she was, went back, gathered
up a big armful of the cleanest straw, and heaped it in the stern of
the boat, while she brought a second bundle.

This matter settled, Aleck and Tug put their heads through the new
harness, and were soon rushing along at a stirring pace, while Katy
skated behind, holding on to the stern of the boat to steady it; Jim
followed with his sled, and Rex galloped here and there as suited him.

The ice for miles together had been swept clean by the wind, and was
like a vast, glaring sheet of plate-glass. Most of it was a deep,
brilliant green. Here and there would be stretches of milky ice, and
now and then great rounded patches would suddenly meet them, which
were black or deep brown, and at first frightened them by making them
believe a patch of open water suddenly yawned in their path. But, when
they examined closely, they could see that this black ice was two or
three feet thick, like all the rest on the open lake.

They were never at any time more than a mile or so from the edge of
the great marshes which bordered the low margin of the lake, and at
noon they knew they had skated twelve miles, by reaching a certain
island standing just in front of the reedy shallows.

Thither they gladly turned for luncheon; skates were unbuckled, a big
fire was built, the snow was cleared away, and the spare canvas spread
down to sit upon, while Katy prepared to warm up the extra supply of
coffee she had made in the morning for this purpose.

Not much talking had been done on the march; breath was too badly
needed to be wasted in that way; but now "tongues were loosed," and a
rattling conversation kept time with the crackle of the dead sticks on
the fire.

"Captain," said Tug, "have you noticed how that ridge in the ice bends
just ahead, and seems to stand across our course?"

"Yes, I have, and I fear it will be troublesome to cross. Jimkin,
you're nimble; climb that cottonwood, and tell us what you can see."

"All right," said Jim, and was quickly in the tree-top.

"It looks like a rough, broken ridge, stretching clear to shore. I
guess we'll have to climb over it. I can't see any break."

"Where do you think is the easiest place?"

"About straight ahead, where you see that highest point. Right beside
it is a kind o' low spot, I think."

"Well, then," said the Captain, "we'll aim for that. Hurry up your
lunch, Katy, and let's be off."

Half an hour later they arrived at the bad place.

"It must be a _hummock_," said Katy, "such as I have read about in Dr.
Kane's book--only not so large, I suppose. He says that the ice-sheet,
or floe, gets cracked and separated a little; then the two floes will
come together again with such force that they lap over one another, or
else grind together, and burst up edgewise along the seam."

"That's just the way this is; but, hummock or no hummock, it must be
crossed," said Aleck.

"Mebbe I could find a better place," suggested Jim, "if I should go
along a little way."

"Well, try it, Youngster. And, Tug, suppose you take a scout in the
other direction."

Tug went off, but soon returned, reporting a worse instead of better
appearance, and Aleck, who had climbed over, came back to say that the
ridge was about twenty-five yards wide.

"How does it look?" asked Katy.

"Why, it looks as though a lot of big cakes of ice had been piled up
on edge, and then frozen into that rough shape, or lack of shape. I
should say the ridge is ten feet high in the middle, and on the other
side it is a straight jump down for about six feet. But it's worse
everywhere else. We must take our skates off the first thing."

This done, they stood up, ready to drag the boat as near to the
hummock as possible. But it was hard pulling, for the slope was pretty
steep and rough.

"Where's that Jim, I wonder?" cried Aleck. "I'll teach The Youngster
not to run off the minute any work is to be done. _Jim!_"

But no boy answered the call, nor several others. Tug stood up on the
boat, and Katy climbed to a high point of ice, but neither could see
anything. Then they all became alarmed, fearing he might have fallen
into one of those holes that here and there are found in the thickest
ice, and always stay open. It is an easy matter to skate into one, but
a very hard one to get out again. It was the thought of this that made
Katy run in the direction whither Jim had started, but her brother
called her back.

"Wait, Katy. We'll put on our skates. Probably The Youngster's hiding,
and I'll box his ears when I catch him. This is no time for fooling."

With quick, nervous fingers they fastened their straps, and then
rushed down along the foot of the hummock as though on a race, Tug
carrying one of the drag-ropes. The tracks could be followed easily
enough until they left the good ice and turned in towards the hummock,
where they came to an end, which looked as though Jim might have taken
off his skates. Here the boys hallooed, then climbed to the top of a
great, upturned table of blue ice, and called again. But the most
complete silence followed their words--such a silence as can never be
known on land among the creaking trees or rustling grass; an absolute,
painful stillness. Not even an echo came back.

At this they were puzzled and frightened, and Katy wanted to cry, but
fought back her tears. They descended, and went slowly onward, now and
then getting upon elevated points, and calling. At last they stopped,
utterly at their wits' end where or how to search next, and Katy's
tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked.

"Cheer up, Sis," said Aleck, and took her hand in his as they skated
slowly onward; "cheer up! we'll try again on that big block ahead."

This block overlooked a broader part of the hummock, and wasn't far
from land. They struggled over the jagged border, and hoisted Katy
upon it to see what she could see.

"Nothing," was her report; "nothing but ice, and ice, and ice, and a
gray edge of marsh. Oh, Jim! Jim! where are you?"

"_Here--help me out._"

Each looked at the other in amazement, for the voice, though faint,
seemed right beside them.

"_Here, down between the cakes--help me out._"

The words came distinctly, and gave them a clew. Katy peeped over the
farther edge of the block, and there she saw the little fellow's face
peering up at her out of the greenish light of a sort of pit into
which he had fallen. Two great cakes of ice had been thrown up side by
side, leaving a space about two feet wide and ten feet deep between
them. The blowing snow that filled most of the crevices of the hummock
had here formed a bridge, which had let Jim through when he stepped
upon it, never suspecting the chasm it concealed.

"Hurt?" asked Tug.

"Not a bit, but pretty well scared. I thought you fellows were never
coming. I've been in here two hours."

"Two hours! Oho, that's good! Twenty minutes would about fill the
bill. You ain't tired so quick of a warm, snug place like that, are
you?"

"Just you try it, and see how you like its snugness. Drop me an end of
that rope, will you?"

"Give him the rope's end, Tug; he deserves it in another way, but we
haven't time to-day. Now, then--yo-heave-o!" and up came the lost
member, not much the worse for his adventure.

Then began the difficult work of crossing the hummock. In front of the
boat lay a steep slope of glassy ice, and beyond and above that a
series of steps and jagged points, forming about such a plateau as a
big heap of building-stone would make, only here the fragments were
larger.

All four, going to the top of the first slope, pulled the boat upward
until the forward runners were just balanced on the crest. Then a hook
on one of the ropes came loose; four young people fell sprawling; and
the boat dropped backward with a rush to the very bottom of the ridge,
where it upset.

"Now," said Aleck, when they had set the boat upright again, and found
nothing broken; "now let us take out all the loose stuff, and so
lighten her as much as we can."

This was done.

"We three fellows," was the Captain's next order, "will drag her up
again, and Katy must go behind with the boat-hook, and stick it into
the ice behind the boat, to hold it, like a chock-block under a wagon
wheel, whenever it shows any signs of slipping back. Now, everybody be
careful."

The steady pulling, with Katy's pushing and guiding, got the front
runners safely over the edge of the sloping side, and gave them a
chance to rest. But when they tried to move it forward enough to bring
the stern up, the boat couldn't be budged, because the ice in front
was so full of ruts and ridges.

Chapter VIII.

JIM'S REBELLION.

"I tell you what, boys," Tug cried, after a great effort, "there's no
use trying any more till we have smoothed a road, and I think,
Captain, you'd better set all hands at that."

"I'm afraid that is so. Jim, please go back and get the axe, the
hatchet, and the shovel. Now, while Tug and I dig at this road, you
and Jim, Katy, can bring some of the freight up here, or perhaps take
it clear across, and so save time. The small sled will help you."

It was tedious labor all around, and the wind began to blow in a way
they would have thought very cold had they not been so warm and busy
with work. As fast as a rod or two of road was cleared, the four took
hold and dragged the boat ahead. These slow advances used up so much
time that when the plateau had been crossed, the sun, peering through
dark clouds, was almost level with the horizon. It now remained to get
down the sudden pitch and rough slope on the farther side. But this
was a task of no small importance, and Aleck called a council on the
subject.

[Illustration: CROSSING THE HUMMOCK.]

"My lambs," he began (the funny word took the edge off the unfortunate
look of affairs, as it was intended to do)--"my lambs, it is growing
late, and it's doubtful if we can get this big boat down that pair of
stairs before dark. Don't you think I'd better order Jim and Katy to
pack up the small sled with tent and bedding and kitchen-stuff?"

"'Twon't hold it all!" interrupted Jim.

"Then, Youngster, you can come back after the bedding. Take the
cooking things first, and you and Katy go back to the island where we
lunched, and make a fire. Tug and I--eh, Tug?--will stay here and chop
away till dark, and then we'll go back to camp with you when you come
after the blankets, and help you carry the tent."

"Are you going to leave the boat here all night?" asked Jim, in alarm.

"Why, of course; what'll harm it? Now be off, and make a big fire."

So the younger ones departed, and by and by Jim returned for a second
load. He found the two older boys cutting a sloping path through the
little ice bluff on the farther side of the hummock, and pretty tired
of it. They were not yet done--the shovel not being of much service in
working the hard blue ice--but it was now getting too dark to do more,
so they piled the snug bundles of blankets into Jim's sled box, and
gave him the rope, while Tug and Aleck put their shoulders under
opposite ends of the tent roll. Then together they all skated away
through the thickening windy twilight, and over the ashy-gray plain of
ice, towards where Katy's fire glowed like a red spark on the distant
shore.

It was a weary but not at all disheartened party that lounged in the
open door of the tent that night, while a big fire blazed in front,
and supper was cooking. This was the first time the sail had been
spread as a tent, and it answered the purpose nicely, giving plenty of
room. The straw Katy had been so anxious about had to be left in the
boat, so that they got no good of it. Jim chaffed his sister a good
deal about this, and Tug rather encouraged him, thinking it was a fair
chance for fun at Katy's expense; but when he saw that Katy really was
feeling badly, not at Jim's teasing words, but for fear she had made
the boys useless trouble, Aleck came to the rescue. Seizing The
Youngster by the shoulder, he spun him round like a teetotum, and was
going to box his ears, when Katy cried out, "Oh, don't!" and saved
that young gentleman's skin for the present.

"Then I'll punish you in another way. Take your knife, go over there
to the marsh"--it was perhaps a hundred yards away--"and cut as many
rushes as you can carry."

The Youngster never moved.

"I don't want the rushes," said Katy, trying to keep the peace, but
her brother paid no heed.

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked again of Jim.

"Yes, I did."

"Well, that was a Captain's Order, and I advise you to obey."

"Do it yourself!" shouted the angry Jim, sitting down by the fire.

Aleck looked at him an instant, saw his sulky, set lips, and then
walked over to a willow bush near by. From the centre of this bush he
cut a thriving switch, and carefully trimmed off all the twigs and
crumpled leaves. It was as pliant and elastic as whalebone. It
whistled through the air, when it was waved, like a wire or a thin
lash. It would hug the skin it was laid upon, and wrap tightly around
a boy's legs, and sting at the tip like a hornet. It wouldn't raise a
welt upon the skin, as an iron rod or a rawhide might do, but it would
hurt just as bad while it was touching you.

Jim knew all this, and it flashed through his brain, every bit of it,
as he saw Aleck trim the switch.

"Better scoot, Youngster," Tug advised, with a grin that was meant
kindly, but made Jim madder than ever.

"Please get the rushes," coaxed Katy.

But when Aleck came back the boy still sat there, defiant of orders.

"Now, James," he said, as he stood over him, "you have been ordered by
your Captain to go and get some rushes. You refuse. You are
insubordinate. I'll give you just one minute to make up your mind what
you will do."

Jim glanced up, saw the determined face and stalwart form of his
brother; saw Tug keeping quiet and showing no intention of
interfering; saw the awful willow. He rose quickly from his seat, and
darted away into the scrub alders and willows as hard as he could run,
but not towards the rushes.

Aleck didn't follow him. "Never mind," he said. "Go on with your
supper, Katy. That boy gets those rushes before he has any grub to eat
or blankets to lie in, unless you both vote against it, and I don't
think you will, for it was a reasonable order."

"Well, Captain," said Tug, "I think we might ease up on it a little.
It was a little rough on The Youngster sending him alone in the dark
to get the stuff. If you had sent me with him, I suppose he'd have
gone fast enough. If you'll say so now, I allow he'll surrender and
save his hide. For that matter, I don't mind getting 'em alone if
you'll let the kid go. I was going to propose it myself just as you
gave the order."

"That's very kind of you, Tug; but I couldn't allow you to get them
alone. You may help if you want to."

"May I tell him so?" Katy asked, eagerly.

"Yes, if you can find him."

"I'll find him--look out for the bacon;" and the girl went off into
the gloom and the bushes, calling, "Jim! Jim!"

It was a good while before she came back, and the boys, tired of
waiting, had forked out the bacon, and were eating their meal, which
was what the poets call "frugal," but immensely relished all the same.

Suddenly Katy and the culprit stalked out of the ring of shadows that
encircled the fire, bearing huge bundles of yellow rushes.

"That ain't fair!" cried Tug. "You ought to have let me gone, Katy."

"Oh, I didn't mind, and I wanted Jim to hurry back."

"I didn't want her to carry none," said Jim, more eager about
self-defense than grammar. "If I give up, I want to give up all over,
and not half-way."

"Good for you, Youngster," Aleck shouted, leaping up. "Give us your
hand!"

Thus peace was restored, and the boy sat down happily to his
well-earned supper, while the older ones spread the crisp reed-straw.
Finding there wasn't quite enough, they went off to the marshes and
brought two more armfuls, which made a warm and springy couch for the
whole party.

These "rushes" were not rushes, properly speaking, but the wild rice
which grows so abundantly on the borders of the great lakes, and
throughout the little ponds and shallow sheets of water that are
dotted so thickly over Wisconsin and southern Minnesota. It is like a
small bamboo jungle, for the close-crowding stiff reeds often stand
ten feet or more above the water. They bear upon the upper part of
their stalks a few ribbon-like leaves, and each reed carries a plume
which in autumn contains the seeds, or the "rice."

The botanical name of the plant is _Zizania aquatica_; and among it
flourish not only the common white and yellow water-lilies, but that
splendid one, the _Nelumbium luteum_, which Western people call the
lotus.

This rice formed an important part of the food of the Indians who
lived where it grew. In and out of the marshes run narrow canals, kept
open by the currents, and through these the Indian women would paddle
their canoes, seeking the ripe heads, which they would cut off and
take ashore to be threshed out in the wigwam, or else they would shake
and rub out the rice into a basket as they went along. At home the
rice would be crushed into a coarse flour in their stone mortars, then
made into cakes baked on the surface of smooth stones heated in the
coals.

The stalks, round, smooth, and straight, were of service to the
Indians also. Out of them they made mats and thatching for their
lodges, and they served as excellent arrow-shafts, a point of
fire-hardened wood, of bone, or of flint having been fixed in the end.

[Illustration: JIM AND KATY BRINGING THE RUSHES TO CAMP.]

In warm weather these broad, submerged marshes, undulating in
color-waves--green in spring, golden-yellow in midsummer, and warm
reddish-brown in October--as the breeze swept across the vast extent
of pliant reeds, formed the home of a great variety of animals, whose
numbers were almost unlimited. There, in the darkly stained water,
lurked hosts of small shells and insects--dragon-flies, beetles, and
aquatic bugs and flies, whose habits were always a matter for
curiosity. Then, where insects and mollusks were so numerous, of
course there were plenty of fishes, great and small, the little ones
feeding on the bugs and snails, the larger on them, and some
giants--like the big pike--on these again. Nor did this end the list.
After the big fish came the muskrat; after the muskrat--in the old
days, at least--sneaked the wolverine; after the wolverine crept the
stealthy panther; and for the panther an Indian lay in wait.

The marshes were full of birds, too, in the bird-season--small, piping
wrens; suspicious sparrows; ducks and rails and gallinules of many
kinds and many voices; herons and cranes and hawks; coming and going
with the seasons, making the yellow reeds populous with busy lives,
and vocal with their merriment. Now, however, all was silent.

Our travellers would have preferred skating across the marshes rather
than outside upon the windy lake, but it was reported that warm
springs came out of the ooze in many parts of the rice morass, keeping
the ice so weak (though not melting it quite away) as to make skating
unsafe. This danger was not so great, perhaps, in a winter so
unusually cold as this one was proving itself to be, as it had been
shown to be in milder seasons; but they did not want to run risks.

"How noisy it will be all around this islet in three months from now!"
Aleck remarked, as they were preparing for bed. "Then you will hardly
be able to hear yourself speak for the frogs."

"Before there were any lighthouses on the lake," said Tug, "sailing
was pretty much guesswork; but my father told me the sailors, when
they approached the shore, used to know where they were by listening
to the bull-frogs. The bulls would call out the names of their
ports, you know: San--_dúsk_--y! To--_l-é-e-e_--do! Mon--_róe_!
De--_trói-i-i-i_--it!"

Chapter IX.

SKATING BY COMPASS.

The next day was Sunday. Fortunately, the sacred day had found them in
such a position that they could spend it quietly. Katy persuaded Jim
and the two young men to listen while she read them some chapters from
the little Testament she had carefully packed among her "necessary
articles."

This, together with the work that _must_ be done, took up a good part
of the morning, and the afternoon was spent in making a trip to the
boat, looking the situation over carefully, and laying plans for a
very early start the next day. Supper over, they soon crawled into
bed, and woke at day break, ready for work, and all the better for
their day of rest.

After a hasty breakfast camp was broken, and work was resumed at the
hummock. All hands labored with such a will that long before noon they
had let the boat down to the smooth white plain upon the other side;
and though it got away from them at the last minute, and went spinning
off on its own account, no harm was done.

The onward march was then resumed, and splendid headway made. At noon
a short halt was called and gladly accepted, all lounging upon the
straw and boxes in the boat, munching crackers and cheese, and
drinking Katy's cold chocolate. The sun had been out all the morning,
and the ice was not only a trifle soft, but frequently rough, which
had made the skating and dragging a little harder work than before.

No land appeared ahead, but Aleck knew the name and position of a
lighthouse just visible upon an island at the mouth of a river away
off at their right. He therefore took out of his pocket a small map of
the western end of the lake, that he had copied from a big chart, and
began to study it. He found that it was about fifteen miles across the
end of the lake to a certain cape on the southern shore, which lay
beyond the great marshy bay into which emptied the river just
mentioned. He took the direction of this cape from where they were at
present, by compass, and made a note of it in his pocket-book. It was
almost exactly southeast. Aleck reckoned on reaching so near there by
sundown that the party could go ashore if very hard pushed by any
misfortune or bad turn of the weather, though it was too long a march
to make unless they were compelled.

"But supposing we find open water, and have to change our course?"
asked Katy.

"Well, we shall know, at all events, that we mustn't go east of
southeast, and must try to keep as close to that direction as
possible. I don't like this sunshine and westerly breeze. I'd much
rather the weather kept real cold."

"Why?" said Jim. "It's much nicer when it's warm."

"I'm afraid of snow and fogs, Youngster. Now let us be off."

No snow or fog came to bother them, however, and at sunset they were
out of sight of any landmark, and travelling by the compass, like a
ship at sea.

You may ask, How could they be sure they were following it truly,
since they had no object, like a long bowsprit, to guide the eye in
ranging their course into line with the needle point, as the steersman
on a ship does when he glances across his binnacle?

This is the plan they took: The compass was a small one, but it was
hung in a box so as always to stand level. It was, in fact, an old
boat compass which Mr. Kincaid had had for many years. This was set
exactly in the middle of the seat at the stern of the boat, where Katy
still skated, with her hands resting upon the stern-board. Here she
could keep her eye easily upon the face of the compass, and make a
straight line from its pointer through the middle of the boat. When
the compass point "southeast" and the stem-post of the yawl were in
line, she knew they were going on a straight course. When these were
out of line, she knew her team had swerved, and she called out
"Right!" or "Left!" to bring them back to the true course, just as a
quartermaster would order "Port!" and "Starboard!" to his helmsman.

The sun went down slowly at their right hands as they rushed along,
and as Jim saw his shadow stretching taller and taller, he found it
difficult to keep pace with the older lads. Noting this, the Captain
ordered a halt, and put Jim into the boat as a passenger, tying his
sled behind.

"Don't you want to ride also?" asked Tug of Katy, very gallantly.

Katy was tired, and one of her skate-straps chafed her instep a
little, but she didn't propose to give up.

"Oh, no," she said, cheerily. "I have so much help by resting on the
stern of the boat that I can go a long time yet before I give in.
Besides, who would steer?"

So they rushed away again, the clink-clink of their strokes keeping
perfect time on the smooth ice. All at once--it was about four o'clock
in the afternoon now--a dark line appeared ahead, and in a few moments
more they could plainly see open water across their path.

When they became sure of this they went more slowly, and in about ten
minutes had approached as close as they dared to a wide space like a
river, beyond which white ice could be seen again. Here all knew they
must spend the night, for it would be foolish to attempt to cross
before morning.

"Well," remarked Tug, as they came to a halt, "according to orders,
it's my duty to take the axe and cut fuel; so I can loaf, for there's
no wood to chop round here that I see;" and he pretended to search in
every direction.

"Loaf? Not a bit of it," shouted Aleck, with a grin. "My order to you
is, Unload that tent, and set it up on the ice! Jim will help you.
I'll help Katy make a fire."

"I wish you would," said the girl. "I'm 'fraid I shouldn't make it go
very well out here. I have never built a kitchen fire on ice."

"This is the best way."

Saying this, Aleck took two of the largest pieces of wood from Jim's
sled, and laid them down a little way apart. Then he laid across them
a platform of the next largest sticks, and on top of this arranged his
kindling, ready to touch a match to.

"We won't set the fire going till we are quite ready for it, and--"

"But I'm cold," Jim complained.

"Well, Youngster, I've heard that the Indians never let their boys
come near the lodge fire to get warm, but bid them run till they work
the chill off. You'd better move livelier if you want to get warm,
for we can't afford any more fire than is necessary for a short bit of
cooking. Katy, what do you propose to have?"

"I thought I would make tea, boil potatoes, and bake some johnny-cake
in my skillet. May I?"

"Oh, yes, but you must economize fuel."

With this warning, Aleck struck a match, and the little fire was soon
blazing merrily in the "wooden stove," as Katy called it. Only one or
two sticks had been burned clear through before the fire had done its
work, and was put out in order to save every splinter of wood
possible. They sat down in the shelter of the boat to eat their
dinner, and enjoyed it very much, in spite of the cold, their
loneliness, and the gathering darkness.

Meanwhile the tent had been set up. Over its icy floor were laid the
thwarts taken out of the boat, the rudder, and two box covers, which
nearly covered the whole space. On top of this was placed as much
straw as could be spared, and upon the straw Aleck and Tug spread
their blankets.

Dinner out of the way, the after-part of the boat was cleared out and
re-arranged, until a level space was left. Here, upon a heap of straw,
beds for the younger ones were arranged. Then the spare canvas was
spread across like an awning, and was held up on an oar laid
lengthwise. This made a snug cabin for Katy and the wearied Jim, who
were not long in creeping into it. Rex followed, and slept in the
straw at their feet, which was good for them all.

[Illustration: "THE LITTLE FIRE WAS SOON BLAZING MERRILY."]

With the coming of darkness came also a damp sort of cold, that caused
them to huddle close in their blankets; and though they presently fell
asleep, it was with a shivering sense of discomfort that spoiled the
refreshment.

Midnight passed, and Aleck, only half awake, was trying to tuck his
blankets closer about him without disturbing his bedfellow, when the
tent was suddenly struck by some large object, and considerably
shaken. Alarmed and puzzled at the same time, Aleck paused to listen
an instant before rising, when the shrieks and barking of the sleepers
in the boat came to his ears. He sprang out of his blankets only in
time to see two shadowy objects rise from the camp, and drift away
across the face of the moon, which was just rising.

"Wh-what w-was that?" came from two scared figures sitting
bolt-upright in the yawl, their tongues stuttering with terror and
cold combined.

"I don't know." Aleck was as bewildered, if not quite as much
frightened, as they.

"Humph!" cried Tug's voice, behind; "you're a pretty set to be scared
out of your wits and wake everybody up on account of two birds.
They're nothing but snow-owls. Go to bed, or we'll all freeze."

"Wh-wh-what are they?" asked Jim, his teeth playing castanets in spite
of all his efforts to control them.

"Tell you in the morning," was the reply. "Go to bed. Come in, Cap'n.
Owls are nothing. Come to bed."

This seemed good advice, however gruffly given; but you can hardly
expect a person to mince his phrases at two o'clock of a winter's
morning, on an ice-floe. Aleck was ready to comply, but he was too
cold.

"I must get warm first, and so must you, Jim." Katy had wisely
disappeared some time before, and said she was pretty comfortable.
"Come and run with me till we get our blood stirring."

Neither of the boys had dared undress at all, so it only remained for
Jim to creep out from under the canvas, and limp stiffly to his
brother's side. Then hand in hand they raced up and down the ice half
a dozen times in the pale greenish moonlight. Once or twice they
disturbed an owl perched on the ice, or heard wild hooting--a sound so
hollow and unearthly that they could not tell whether it came from
near by or far off.

This strange voice and the gray, silent half-light on the wide waste
gave them a very lonely and dismal feeling, and when they had put
themselves into a glow by exercise, they were very glad to creep back
into their beds.

Chapter X.

AN UGLY FERRIAGE.

The sun had been up an hour when Aleck woke again, and pulled Tug's
ear, at which that young gentleman sat up and was going to fight
somebody right away. But Aleck pounced on him, and pinned him down
before he could stir or strike.

"No time for fooling," he laughed in his chum's face; "but if there
were I'd like to take you out to the creek here and duck you for your
disrespect to your superior officer. Will you touch your cap if I let
you up?"

"Ye-e-s," Tug replied, as he felt the strength of the Captain's grip;
"but I'm not sure about your duckin' me!"

"Nor I," laughed Aleck, and he leaped away, to go and wake up the
others by kicking on the side of the boat.

The morning was beautiful, and by the time breakfast was ready the
tent had been struck, and the big boys had come back from an
exploration to say that they could go almost to the brink of the open
water.

"It must be a 'lead,'" exclaimed Katy. "That's the name arctic
travellers give to a wide crack in the ice, by taking advantage of
which, whenever it leads in the right direction, vessels are able to
make their way through the 'packs' and 'fields.'"

"Probably their _leading_ vessels through is where they get the name,"
Aleck remarked.

"Shouldn't wonder," said Tug; "but however well that plan may work in
the arctic regions, we must _cross_ this one."

Getting everything ready at the brink of the canal occupied fifteen
minutes. Then, all the cargo easy to be moved having been taken out,
the boat (sledge and all, as an experiment for this short trip) was
launched without mishap. The sledge bobs hanging on her bottom
weighted her down, and canted her so much, though the water was
perfectly smooth, that it was necessary to make the trip very
carefully. The young voyagers were thus taught that for any real
navigation the boat must always be removed from the sledge. By noon,
however, the last ferriage was successfully made, and they had
repacked and were ready to go on again as soon as they had eaten a
"bite." While despatching this, Katy suddenly exclaimed:

"Oh, I have never once thought about our visitors last night. I'll
confess I was dreadfully frightened. How did you know they were owls?"

"Saw 'em," Tug replied, shortly, with his mouth full of dried beef.
"Couldn't be anything else this time o' year."

"Where do they come from?"

"From 'way up north. Don't your arctic book say anything about 'em?
Maybe it calls 'em the 'great white' or 'snowy' or 'Eskimo' owls."

"I think I remember something about them. The Eskimos have a
superstitious fear of them, haven't they?"

"Yes, and lots of other people, for that matter. Why, only last winter
one of 'em lit on the roof of a house out in the country where I was
staying, and the old woman there began to rock back and forth, and
whine out that some dreadful bad luck was coming. But that's all
nonsense."

"I guess its cry has given it a witch-like reputation," said Aleck.
"It sounded uncanny enough last night; didn't it, Jim? But what were
they doing away out here?"

"Oh, I s'pose they were flying 'cross the lake, and had stopped to
rest on our tent-ridge, till we startled them. I bet they were worse
scared than you were. You see, their proper home is in the arctic
regions. That's where they build their nests, putting them in trees
and in holes in rocks. But when winter comes up there, and the snow
gets so deep and the cold so severe that all the small animals he
feeds on have retired to their holes or else left the country, Mr. Owl
has to get up and flit too, or he will starve to death. So he works
his way down here. They say these great white owls--why, they're
bigger than the biggest cat-owl you ever saw--never go far south of
this, and I know that we don't see many of 'em except when we have a
very severe winter. But I've talked enough. Let's get out of this."

The sunshine by this time was interrupted by dark clouds that rose in
the west, and puffs of damp, chilly air began to be felt by the
skaters, who wrapped themselves a little closer in their overcoats as
they measured their steady strokes. Still no land came in sight, but
they thought this must be owing mainly to the thick air to the
southward. Once they thought they saw it, but the dark line on the
horizon proved to be a hummock, not so bad as the one lately passed,
but still troublesome, and closely followed by a second. The lifting
and tugging tired them all greatly, and after the second barrier had
been climbed they found themselves on ice which was incrusted with
frozen snow, and exceedingly unpleasant to skate upon. But a few rods
farther on there appeared a narrow stream of open water, beyond which
the ice looked hard and green.

"Let us cross, and camp on the other side," said Tug.

"Yes," Aleck answered, in a troubled voice. "Do you see that snow
storm coming, over there? It'll be down upon us in a jiffy, and
there's no telling what next. Yes, let's cross before it gets dark, if
we can. There's a hummock over there that will shelter us a bit from
the wind, I think."

The anxious tone of his voice alarmed his companions, and all set at
work with a will. Yet the snow-flakes had come, and were thick about
them, before the second ferriage had been made, and the wet and
ice-clogged boat was lifted out of the water.

Nobody _said_ as much, but it is safe to believe that each of our four
friends _thought_, to himself, that if every day's work in advance was
to be like this one, they had undertaken a prodigiously difficult and
dangerous experiment in this skating expedition; and perhaps each one
wondered whether the winter would be long enough to carry them to
their destination at this rate of progress, even should they be able
to surmount the fast-recurring obstacles in safety.

Chapter XI.

CAMPING AGAINST AN ICE WALL.

"Now what?" asked Tug, holding his head very high to prevent the snow
going down the back of his neck. "Now what?"

"Now," Aleck answered, in a tone of command, "get the boat up there
under the lee of that hummock. Everybody take hold."

The ropes were seized with a will, but the heavy boat could not be
dragged in the snow until it had been lightened; then by great
exertion it was taken over the fifty yards that lay between the water
and the hummock. At that spot the ice had been thrust up like a smooth
wall about fifteen feet high, which overhung slightly, so as to form a
cosey shelter from the storm. The bow of the boat was swung close
against its foot, while the stern was slanted away until there
remained a space of about eight feet between it and the smooth face of
the hummock at that end. Tug and Jim went back after the sled and what
baggage had been left behind at the "lead," while Aleck and Katy began
to contrive a shelter.

To manage this they cleared out the movable things in the boat,
arranging all the cargo (except the mess chest), as fast as it was
removed, in the shape of a wall extending across from the stern of the
boat to the hummock. In this way, with the help of thwarts, two oars,
and some blocks of ice, a rough wall was raised, about four feet high,
enclosing a three-cornered space eight feet in width, having the
hummock and starboard side of the boat for its sides, and the cargo
wall (through which a hole had been left as a doorway) for its end or
"base."

Next, a roof must be contrived. The mast and two oars were set in a
leaning position from the outer gunwale of the boat, where they rested
firmly upon the thwart-cleats, up against the hummock, to which they
were securely wedged.

It had now become dark, and Katy lighted the lantern. Tug and Jim,
covered with snow, brought their last sled-load and added it to the
wall, throwing all their little stock of firewood, which amounted to
about three bushels, into the hut. Then all hands set to work in the
wind, which blew in sharp gusts now and then over the crest of the
hummock, to stretch the sails upon the rafters formed by the mast and
oars and thus form an awning-roof.

The handling of the heavy mainsail proved an extremely difficult
matter. Once it blew quite away from their grasp, and went off in the
darkness, but Jim and the dog gave chase, and soon caught it, Rex
grabbing it with his teeth, and so holding on to it till the others
came to the rescue. At the next attempt they succeeded in fastening
one end, after which the task grew easier.

The mainsail fairly in place, the jib was next hoisted across the end,
and here its leg-of-mutton shape was a great advantage, for when the
broad lower part was hung against the hummock wall the narrowing peak
just fitted between the sloping roof and the top of the wall.

When the two sails had been fastened, the party found themselves
covered rudely but pretty tightly, and the spare canvas remained to
serve as a carpet, which was greatly needed. Plenty of snow and cold
were "lying round loose" yet, but to be inside was far better than to
be out of doors. That this safety and warmth were possible to their
frail structure was owing, of course, to the fact that it stood under
the lee of the tall ice wall, which acted as a shield against the
force of the gale.

"Really, the wind does us more good than harm now," Aleck remarked,
"for it drifts the snow under the boatsledge and against the wall,
and, if it keeps on, will soon stop up all the holes, and leave us
boxed into a tighter house than our old snow-chinked cabin back at the
river."

"Mebbe it'll bury us," said Jim, in an awful whisper.

"Guess not. Anyhow, we can have a fire first--there are holes
enough left yet to let the smoke out. Tug, just shovel the drifted
snow out of the house, or pack it between the bobs under the boat,
while I whittle some kindling. There won't any more blow in--the
drift's too high now."

[Illustration: CAMPING AGAINST AN ICE WALL.]

"Shall I boil tea or coffee?" asked Katy.

"Coffee, I guess; and give us some fried bacon and crackers--but lots
of coffee."

"Why couldn't we use our oil stove now?"

"We don't really need to. We have some wood, and can build a fire well
enough inside here, and the oil is easier carried than the wood for a
greater need. Ready, Tug?"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"All right. Here are our kindlings. Katy, open your lantern, and let
me set these shavings afire. Matches are too precious to be wasted or
even risked."

A minute later a brisk little fire was burning, snow was turning to
water, and cold water to hot, while coffee was thinking that presently
it would be in the pot, and slices of bacon were saying good-bye to
their fellows, as one by one they dropped into the frying-pan.

It was a strange scene, but the actors in it were too tired and hungry
to notice how they looked, as they watched with eager interest the
progress of supper-getting. They were not cold, and wraps were all
thrown aside, for the wind was cut off, and the fire, small as it was,
made a great deal of heat in the confined space. The atmosphere of an
Eskimo house of ice, though there may be no better fire than a little
pool of train-oil in a soapstone saucer, where a wick of moss is
smoking and flaring, will become so warm that the people remove not
only their furs, but a large part of their under-clothing, and this
when the temperature outside is fifty degrees or so below
freezing-point.

"It is just about big enough for a play-house," Katy remarked, as she
jostled one and another in moving about.

"I'm glad the snow blows over, and doesn't settle on the roof. If it
did, I'm afraid the canvas would sag down awfully, or the oars break."

"How will we sleep to-night?" asked Jim.

"Well," said Aleck, "I think we must all sleep in the boat somehow.
Katy and you can lie on the straw in the stern-sheets, as usual, and
Tug and I will bunk in somewhere for'ard. If we had plenty of wood to
keep the fire going, it would be comfortable out here, but we must
economize. If this snow keeps on, I don't know when--"

"Supper!" called Katy, and Aleck didn't finish what he was saying; but
they all felt a little more serious about their situation. Though Jim
objected, Aleck ordered him to put out every bit of the fire, and
perched up in the boat they ate their supper by the light of the
lantern.

"It's precious lucky we found this straw in the cabin," said Tug, as
he sat upon it, with a tin cup of coffee in one hand, and in the other
a sandwich made of two pieces of cold johnny-cake and a slice of
bacon.

"That's cool! The _luck_ is that Kate had the good sense to make us
bring it. I know two young fellows who objected."

"I know _three_," Katy spoke up. "Fair play. You sneered at me at
first, Mr. Captain, as much as anybody. You needn't play goody-goody
over the rest of them."

"Go in, Katy!" they both cried. "Give it to him! He was going to leave
every bit behind--and the rushes too."

"Well, well," pleaded Aleck, "I know now it was a good idea, and I'm
not always so--"

"--big a fool as you look, eh?" exclaimed Tug, giving them all a laugh
at the face made by the tall fellow, who was thus cheated out of his
smooth apology.

"Never you mind; I'll get even with you before long."

Then the Captain took out his watch and wound it. Holding it in his
hand he said: "Now it's _my_ turn. I'll give you merry jesters just
four minutes to finish your supper and make your beds. Then I blow out
the lantern. Oil is precious."

Chapter XII.

SNOWED UNDER.

There was a roguish twinkle in the Captain's eye, as though oil was
not so precious but that they might have burned a few more drops of
it; but an order was an order, and everybody was quite ready for
darkness when it came, except Tug.

Then, how pitchy it was, and how the wind sung and whizzed over their
rough-edged shield of ice, now and then catching the border of the
ill-stayed tent and giving it a furious flap, as though about to throw
it over! But weariness and warmth--for often snowy nights are not so
cold as clear ones--closed ears as well as eyes, and when they awoke
it was gray light in the tent, and half-past seven o'clock in the
morning.

Katy was the first one to peep over the gunwale of the boat, though
Aleck was already awake.

"Is the place full of snow?" he asked.

"No, but the canvas sags a good deal."

"Well, you keep under your blankets till Tug and I--get out of this,
mate!--have cleared up the floor a little, and built a fire. I'm
afraid we won't get away from here to-day."

After breakfast the two larger lads crawled over the wall, sinking up
to their waists in the snow as they stepped off. Struggling out, they
climbed up a little way upon the crest of the hummock, where it had
been swept clear of snow by the wind, which had now subsided; but
nothing could be seen through the veil of thick-flying flakes except
the dirty gray of their canvas roof and the thin wisps of smoke that
curled upward from beneath it. All else was pure white, sinking on
every side into a circle of foggy storm. Around the outer side of the
boat and the end of the house drifts had been heaped up even on to the
edge of the canvas, so that their house had become a cave between the
ice and the snow-bank.

"It's snug enough," said Tug.

"Yes, but I should hate to starve to death or freeze there, all the
same," Aleck replied.

"But it ain't very cold--and--and--say! we've lots of food, haven't
we?"

"Enough for about ten days, if we put ourselves on precious short
rations; but most of it--the flour and bacon and so on--must be
cooked, and this takes fire, and fire needs fuel, which is just what
we haven't got. If we should use every bit of wood there is except
the boat and sledge, there wouldn't be enough to cook our food for ten
days. Besides, though it isn't cold now, it's likely to turn mighty
cold after this snow-storm, and then we must have a fire, or freeze."

"But we could get ashore back at the Point in a day's travel. Or, for
that matter, the south shore can't be far off, though we can't see it
through this fearful storm."

"If we had clear ice it would be all right, but how can we travel in
this snow? It can't be less than two feet deep everywhere for miles
and miles. You and I might go a little way, but Katy and The Youngster
couldn't budge twenty steps. It's really a serious scrape we have
brought ourselves into; and we ought to have thought about this before
we started. Talk about Dr. Kane! He never was worse off in the arctic
regions than we're likely to be right here in a day or two, unless
something happens."

Aleck certainly was very down-hearted, and his companion did not seem
much disposed to "brace him up," as he would have expressed it. He
could only reply, in an equally discouraged voice,

"I don't see what _can_ happen out here--for good."

"Nor I. Let's go in; it's no use standing here in the storm. But,
mind you, no word of all this to the others yet."

All day long the snow sifted down in fine, dense flakes that piled up
higher and higher around their house, though there was enough wind to
keep it from collecting on the roof, which was very fortunate. They
sat in the boat, half nestling in the straw; told stories; made Tug
tell them everything he could think of about animals and shooting;
invented puzzles, Aleck setting some hard sums; mended clothes--this,
of course, was Katy's amusement; and guessed at conundrums. Here Jim
outshone all the rest. He was sharper with his answers than any of
them, and finally proposed the following:

"Ebenezer Mary Jane, spell it with two letters?"

They knit their brows over it, pronounced it impossible to solve, and
gave it up.

"I-t, _it_," says Jim, and carried off the honors.

Tired of this, they listened while Katy read from the precious book of
Norwegian stories, and then chapter after chapter out of the little
red Testament.

"'Twouldn't be a bad scheme for some raven to bring _us_ food," said
Tug, thoughtfully. "I reckon Elisha's wilderness wasn't a worse one
than this ice-plain."

"The Eskimos, Dr. Kane writes, eat the raven himself sometimes, in
their snow-deserts, which Elisha wouldn't have done on any account, I
suppose."

"No. That would have been like Æsop's fable of killing the goose that
laid the golden eggs."

"Yes, so it would," Katy responded; "but the Eskimos have lots of
other birds to eat--auks and guillemots, and eider-ducks, and
mollemokes."

"But they're on the sea, where those birds live in enormous flocks,
like our wild pigeons up in the pine woods--millions of 'em!" Tug
exclaimed, with outstretched arms. "No such a thing on our lake after
the blackbirds leave the marshes."

"Except owls," interposed Jim; "and we can't eat them."

"I feel as though even an owl-stew wouldn't be bad about now," Aleck
replied.

Nevertheless, when lunch-time came, both the big boys vowed they were
not a bit hungry, and refused to eat. Katy took only a cracker, but
Jim ate three crackers and the last bit of the cold ham, picking the
bone so clean that, big as it was, Rex, who was frightfully hungry,
could get little comfort out of it, though he gnawed at it nearly all
the afternoon. Then Tug smashed it for him, and gave him another try,
which he appreciated highly.

"Poor Rex!" said Katy, with a sigh. "Travellers get so badly off they
have to kill and eat their dogs sometimes"--Rex stopped crunching, and
looked up with a glance of alarm at this--"and if we should--"

"What a grand time Rex would have at his own bones!" interrupted
Tug--a joke the utter absurdity of which wrinkled the faces that had
become straight into hearty laughter. Towards evening a fire was
built, which used the last of the sticks and one of the box-covers
before the biscuits could be baked in the skillet, the ham fried, and
tea made.

"I'm 'fraid it won't be long before I shall have to try the little
stove," said Katy.

"I had no idea we were so near the end," Aleck muttered, under his
breath.

The meal that evening was a very dull one, and if they did not go to
sleep at once after they had gone to bed, certainly there was little
fun-making among the weather-bound prisoners. Aleck said afterwards he
thought he slept about an hour that night, and Katy was sure she
didn't really get soundly asleep at all; but it is difficult to lie
awake _all_ night, though your rest may be so broken that you think in
the morning you have never once lost your knowledge of what was going
on.

Chapter XIII.

SAVED FROM STARVATION.

When they arose next morning the air was much lighter, for it was no
longer snowing. Breaking their way out after breakfast, Aleck and Tug
climbed to the crest of the hummock above the house, where pretty soon
they were joined by Katy and Jim, anxious to get a look abroad. There
was not much satisfaction in this, though. On all sides stretched an
unbroken area of white--a spotless expanse of new snow such as you
never can see on land, for there was nothing to break the colorless
monotony, except where the hummock stretched away right and left, half
buried, and as white as the rest, save at a few points where crests of
upturned ice-blocks stood above the drifts.

"There is a higher point a little way over there," said Aleck to Tug;
"let's go across, and see if it will show us anything new."

"Mayn't we come?" asked Jim.

"No, Youngster, stay with Katy. It would be a useless journey for you,
and we'll soon be back."

And off they went, floundering up to their waists much of the time.

"Jim," says Katy, "I see, just beyond the hut"--pointing in the
direction opposite to that in which the lads had gone--"a space under
the edge of the hummock where the ice seems pretty clear. Understand?
And look! don't you see that long, dark line there? I wonder what it
can be? Let us go and find out. We can get along easily enough after a
few steps."

Jim strode ahead, and stamped down a path for Katy through the snow
that lay between their house and the clear space of ice that had been
swept by the eddy under the hummock, until, a moment later, they were
both running along upon a clean floor towards the object they had
seen. Now they could make it out clearly; and at the first discovery
Jim tossed his cap high in the air and gave a hurrah, in which the
girl joined, wishing she too had a cap to throw up. What do you
suppose it was that had so excited and gladdened them? Can't you
guess?

_A log of wood frozen into the ice!_

"Now we can have all the fire we want."

"And I can keep the coffee hot for the second cup."

Then they looked at one another, and laughed and clapped their hands
again. Were two children ever before made so happy by the simple
finding of a log?

Just then they heard Aleck's voice:

"Hallo-o-o! Where are you?"

Jim jumped up, and was about to shout back, but his sister threw her
hand over his mouth.

"Stop, Jimkin! Let them look for us, and have the fun of being
surprised by our great discovery."

So both kept quiet, and let the boys shout. By and by they saw their
heads bobbing over the drift, and presently Tug came running towards
them, with Aleck close behind.

"Why didn't you answer? Didn't you hear us? Hello! Whoop--la! Wood, or
I'm a Dutchman!" and all echoed his wild shout, and tried to imitate
his dance, until the joy was bumped out of them by sudden falls on the
slippery ice.

It was a tree trunk of oak, that had been floating about, frozen into
the ice, above the surface of which fully half of it was to be seen.
The stubs of the roots were towards them, while the upper end of the
tree, which had been a large one, was lost in a drift more than forty
feet distant.

"There is enough good wood here," said Aleck, "to keep us warm for two
months, if we don't waste it; and we ought to be very thankful."

"Then let's have a fire right away!" Jim exclaimed.

"All right, Youngster," was the Captain's response. "Fetch the axe,
and we'll soon light up."

When Jim had disappeared, Katy asked her brother what he had seen.

"Nothing," was the reply. "And it would just be impossible to move
half a mile a day in this snow. It's one of the deepest falls I ever
saw. We've got to stay here, for all I see, till it melts, or crusts
over, or blows away, or something else happens."

"Well, we have plenty of fuel now."

"Yes, but we can't live on oak--though we might on acorns. But here
comes Jimkin. Let's say no more about it now, Katy."

As the chips flew under Tug's blows, Katy gathered an armful, and
hastened back to kindle a fire, while Jim and Aleck busied themselves
in clearing a good path, and in hauling the hand-sled from under the
boat, where it had been jammed into the drift out of the way. By the
time it was ready Tug had chopped a sled-load of wood, and they hauled
it to the house. It had been very awkward climbing over their wall of
boxes, but they had been afraid to move any part of it, for fear of
throwing down the snow which had banked it up and made the place so
tight and warm. However, there was one box which must shortly be
opened in order to get at more provisions; so it was carefully moved,
and the wood piled in its place, leaving a low archway underneath,
through which they could crawl on their hands and knees.

"That's just like an _igloo_," said Katy.

"What's an 'igloo'?"

"An Eskimo house made of frozen snow, in the shape of a dome, and
entered by a low door, just like this one. By the way, are you getting
hungry?"

"Yes; bring us something to eat."

They went back to their chopping. Pretty soon Katy came running out,
bringing some crackers, a little hard cheese, and the last small jar
of jelly--"just for a taste," she explained. Then she broke out with
her story:

"Oh, boys, there's a whole lot of little birds--white and
brown--around the house. They seem to like to get near the smoke. I'm
going to throw out some crumbs."

"Yes, do," said Tug, eagerly, "and I'll get my gun."

"What? to shoot them! Oh, no."

"But they will make good eating."

"Ye-e-s, I suppose so," agreed the kind-hearted girl; "but I hate to
have them shot."

"It's hard, I know," Aleck said, sympathizing more with his sister
than with the birds, I fear; "but we need everything we can get. It
may be a great piece of good-fortune that they have come, and--Hold
up, Tug; aren't you afraid if you shoot at them they will be scared
away for good?"

"No fear of that," was the answer; "and we have no other way. Come
along, Katy, and keep Rex quiet."

Luncheon was stuffed in their pockets, and all hastened towards the
house.

There they still were--several flocks of birds resembling sparrows,
but larger than any common sparrow, and white; so white, in fact, that
they could only be seen at all against the snow by glimpses of a few
brown and black feathers on their backs. In each flock, however, there
were one or two of a different sort, easily distinguishable by their
darker plumage and rusty brown heads. Tug said they were Lapland
longspurs, and had pretty much the same habits as their numerous
associates. The whole flock of birds was very restless, constantly
rising and settling, but showed no disposition to go away, and took
little alarm at the four figures that stealthily approached.

"What are they?" whispered Aleck to Tug.

"White snow-flakes, or snow-buntings," he whispered back. "Mighty good
eating."

Creeping quietly into the house, Tug took his shot-gun out of the boat
and hastily loaded it, but with great care to see that the priming was
well up in the nipple and a good cap on. Then he slung over his
shoulders his shot-pouch and powder-horn--a short, black,
well-polished horn of buffalo, of which he was very proud, for it had
been a curiosity in Monore--and begged them all to stay in the house
and let him alone, unless he called to them, and, above all, to keep
the dog inside.

This said, he crawled forward out of the low doorway, holding his gun
well in front of him, and the other three sat down to wait for the
result.

Scarcely a minute had passed before a sharp report was heard, and a
little thud upon the canvas roof. At this sound Rex leaped up, and was
greatly excited. His ears were raised, his eyes flashed, and he gave
several short, quick barks. But Aleck had twisted his fingers in the
dog's mane, and forced him to drop down and keep quiet.

Very soon afterwards there rang out a second report, and again, after
time enough to reload, a third. Then the sportsman's voice was heard
calling, and all ran out to see how many he had bagged.

[Illustration: "A SHARP REPORT WAS HEARD."]

Chapter XIV.

THE ARCTIC VISITORS.

"Help me catch these wounded ones!" cried Tug, dancing round in chase
of several wing-tipped and lame birds that were floundering in the
snow.

The others rushed after them too, and it was exciting sport, for the
chase often led them into deep drifts and down the scraggy sides of
the hummock; it thus became the scene of many comical tumbles and
failures, for several of the birds, having been shot as they crowded
together in a bunch, were only slightly wounded, and able to make a
vigorous attempt to escape. Rex took part also, but his work consisted
chiefly in barking himself hoarse, for all he accomplished was the
finding of one dead bird; and this, as he was not a retriever, he
devoured on the spot.

When, panting, red-faced, and tired out, they gathered again at the
door, they counted up seventeen fat buntings and one long-spur as the
result of the three shots. Three of these were badly mangled, and were
given to Rex; the others they began at once to make into a stew for
supper, which they always ate about sundown. This meal also took the
place of a dinner, as they ate only "a bite" at noon.

While they were plucking the birds--and their bodies seemed wofully
small when the thick coat of feathers had been removed--they asked Tug
many questions about the buntings. He could not answer all of them,
but the substance of what he told them was this:

The snow-buntings--white snow-birds, or snow-flakes--belong to the far
northern regions, where they go in summer to make their nests, often
within the arctic circle. As soon as their young are able to fly they
must begin their southward migration, for the excessive cold and the
deep snow cut off all the grass-seeds, mosses, and insects upon which
they feed in summer. So they begin to spread southward, not into
British America alone, but also into Lapland and Russia, and the lower
parts of Siberia. The bird seems to be a lover of cold, and used to
scant fare and the roughest climate. It is not always, therefore, that
they are to be seen in the United States south of the Great Lakes.

Around these lakes, however, they are likely to come in large flocks
after a cold snap or a deep fall of snow. The wild rice tracts and
frozen marshes afford them an abundance of seeds and dried berries,
upon which they grow fat. Though seeming less in danger than most
other birds, since our hawks are gone southward, these buntings are
exceedingly restless and timid, which makes them scurry away at the
least alarm. Yet their timidity is not enough to insure their safety,
for though they are constantly rising up and settling again, their
flights are so short and uncertain that, as we have seen, a good
marksman has no difficulty in shooting them. They are so small,
however, that in this country of large game-birds they are never shot
for food unless a necessity like the present one compels it. With the
first bit of warm weather the snow-buntings and their companions, the
long-spurs, whirl away to the bleak northward, crowding close upon the
heels of Winter as he retreats to his polar stronghold.

In the cool mountainous parts of the Far West there are several
species of birds closely akin to the snow-flake, whose summer homes
are among the peaks. They belong to the same genus (_Plectrophanes_),
but none of them are so white as the Eastern bunting; in fact, like
the ptarmigan, he is pure white only in midwinter, changing in summer
to a dress much mottled with warm brown and black, traces of which
remain in his winter hood and collar.

"What do you suppose brought the snow-flakes away out hither on the
ice?" Tug was asked.

"Oh, we're not so far from land--though we might as well be a hundred
miles away for all the good it will do us!--and I suppose they were
flying across to the marshes and islands on the north shore. Probably
our smoke attracted them."

Having got done with their birds, the boys returned to their chopping.
Two or three large pieces were hacked out as back-logs to build their
fire upon, instead of making it right on the ice; and since this last
load was not needed in the wall, which had been banked up anew, it was
spread around on the floor of the house to lift their canvas carpet
above the chilly and often wet floor, for the weather was not cold
enough now to keep it frozen always hard and dry under the tent.

Evening came, and with it a feeling of homelike comfort queer to think
about, yet not quite impossible under the circumstances, forlorn and
dangerous as they were. The boys perched themselves on the gunwale of
the boat, and watched Katy making snow-bird stew and steeping the
fragrant tea.

Then, how good it tasted! What a royal change from steady bacon and
crackers, or tough dried beef, and water!

"I wonder if they'll come again?" said Aleck, examining his friend's
gun. "Costs a heap o' powder, though, and the noise scares them. Say,
Tug, don't you know how to build traps?"

"I could make a figure four," piped Jim, "if I had the box."

"Guess we could manage that. Ugh! what a frightful smoke!"

"I should say so," added Katy, rubbing her smarting eyes. "I think, if
you would punch a hole under the wall, there would be a better
draught. That hole in the corner of the roof don't make a very fine
chimney."

Tug took his ramrod and worked the snow away from a crevice at the
foot of the wall, near the floor. The cooler air outside sucked in to
take the place of the heated air within, which ascended to the hole at
the edge of the roof, and a draught was set in motion, taking enough
of the smoke out to make the place endurable while they ate their
supper.

How good that bird soup was! And what fun they had, eating it out of
their tin cups with wooden spoons! There was only one bowl for the
tea, which had to be passed around for each to drink from in turn.
They forgot their difficulties for a little while, and were as merry
as anybody could be. All at once Katy stopped short in a laugh, with
an exclamation of astonishment:

"I do believe we've never one of us thought what day it is! This is
Christmas eve!"

The evening was given to chatting, as they sat in the darkness half
illumined by the red embers of their fire, for they wanted to save
their lantern oil, and would not allow themselves to burn it
uselessly; nor was it late when they went to sleep.

Chapter XV.

CHRISTMAS BIRD-CATCHING.

"Merry Christmas!"

It was the Captain's voice, who felt it a part of his duty to be the
first "on deck" in the morning, but had a rival in his sister, who was
quite as active as he.

"_Merry_ Christmas! this what you call merry?" inquired Jim,
fretfully, as with his finger he traced figures in the frost on the
under side of the canvas.

"Well, let's try to make it as merry as we can," Katy cried,
cheerfully, from the starboard corner of the stern-sheets.

"I know what I'm going to do," said Tug--"make bird-traps. I lay awake
a long time in the night planning them."

"While you fellows talkee-talkee I'll build a fire;" and Aleck's tall
form was soon bent over the heap of wood, where a blaze was quickly
crackling. Tug and Jim followed, and all went out of doors, as was
their custom, leaving Katy the whole igloo to herself for a little
while.

Immediately after breakfast Tug began on his traps.

He had brought along with him as a part of his baggage what he
sometimes called his gunsmith shop. It consisted of a square tin box
that would hold about two quarts of chestnuts--if he had had any
chestnuts to put in it, which he hadn't. Besides a bag of No. 6 shot,
this box contained one of the strangest and most worthless collections
of odds and ends of boyish hardware that could be imagined. A
catalogue of it would be useless. Among other articles were a
knife-blade that long ago had parted from its handle, a brad-awl in
the same condition, and a broken bullet-mould bound together by a long
winding of fine wire.

These three things the lad picked out and laid aside. Then he turned
over the rest of the contents of the box until he had secured several
tacks and brads of varied sizes, and a round piece of tin with holes
in it. Next he discovered something which made him shout with a joy
almost equal to his delight at finding the tree trunk. This best of
all the finds, this forgotten treasure in the tin box, was a small
coil of horse-hairs. They were the relics of a preparation he had made
for a short camping trip into the woods three months before, while the
October haze and bright cool air were playing among the rustling
autumn leaves. How the scene came back to him! Now these hairs would
serve him for a better use than mere amusement. He was carefully
unwinding them when Jim rushed in to say that the snow-birds were
around again.

"Good!" cried Tug. "Take some crumbs out of the cracker box, and
quietly throw them down where the snow-birds can get them. Put 'em on
the top of the hummock first, then we'll gradually toll 'em down
below. I'll be out in a minute."

Jim got his crackers and vanished. Aleck was chopping wood, and Katy
was with him. It was a cold day, but sunny, and there were no signs of
the snow melting. Tug, alone in the house, looked fondly at his tools,
and having nobody else to speak to, talked to himself.

"We're like the boy and the ground-hog. 'We ain't got no meat for the
supper, and the preacher's comin'.' So I guess I'd better leave the
twitch-ups and make some common box traps that Kate and the kid can
watch. Come here--you!"

This last was addressed to a wooden box about twelve inches square, in
which Katy had been wont to pack the small articles of table use. Tug
turned them all out, and pulled off the leather hinges that held the
cover. Then, taking an oak splinter from the firewood, he cut it to
the size of a lead-pencil, and notched it in the middle. In this notch
he tied the end of the ball of twine which formed a part of the boat's
stores, and cut off a length of about fifteen feet. Next, he drew the
locker out of the bearings upon which it rested, emptied it of its
contents, and made a stick and length of twine to fit it in the same
way. Lastly, he tore two pieces a foot or so square from their one
strong sheet of white paper. He had been at work scarcely ten minutes,
but had ready two simple traps. Then he went outside and called to
Katy, who came quickly.

"Katy," he said, "I have something for you to do. Please get a blanket
and come out on top of the hummock, where you'll find me."

While the girl went inside for the blanket Tug climbed up to the icy
hill-top, where a small flock of snow-birds were pecking away at the
crumbs Jim had thrown out. The lad crept stealthily towards them, and
though the birds moved away, they were not greatly frightened, and did
not go far. As quietly and rapidly as possible he spread down his
pieces of paper on the highest part of the hummock, at a little
distance apart, and not far from the edge of the ice table. Then,
setting his boxes bottom upward, he perched each one slantwise upon
one of his sticks, and stretched the strings away to the hummock's
edge. On the paper underneath the boxes, and somewhat on the snow
about them, he spread his bait of crumbs. Then showing Katy, who had
now come out, where she could hide herself behind the edge of the
upheaved ice cakes, he told her to wrap herself up well in the
blanket, and to keep perfectly still till the birds came back. They
would pick at the crumbs until by and by one or two of them would be
sure to step under the boxes.

"Then," said he, "you jerk your string, the box falls, and Mr.
Snow-flake is a prisoner."

So Katy took her position, and Tug, asking Jim to help him, went off
to make some other traps.

"Youngster," he directed, "I want you to cut me eight square pieces of
ice, each one about as big as a brick, and after that two slabs about
eighteen inches square and two or three inches thick. You can take the
axe and cut 'em out in big chunks from the hummock, and then saw 'em
into shape--here's the saw--and mind you keep away from where Katy
is."

"What do you want them for?"

"For traps--never you mind why: you'll see presently," was the lofty
reply.

Jim thought it a little unfair, but he good-naturedly took the axe and
saw and went to work.

In half an hour he came to say he was done, and was quickly followed
by his sister, whose face was beaming.

"I've caught three!" she cried.

"Three? Good!"

"Yes, they came, a big flock--about forty, I should think--and
chattered and twittered about over the house."

"I heard 'em," Tug exclaimed.

[Illustration: KATY TRAPPING THE SNOW-BUNTINGS.]

"Yes? Well, they seemed to enjoy warming their wings in the smoke, for
they flew through it lots of times. Then pretty soon one spied a
crumb, and I suppose he called his fellows, for in a minute they came
all hopping about on the snow, and getting nearer and nearer the
boxes. I got so nervous I could hardly hold the strings still, but I
kept as quiet as a mouse--"

"Or as a cat after a mouse!" interrupted Aleck, who had come in with
an armful of wood.

"--and pretty soon one little bird went right under the locker. There
was another close behind him, but I was too anxious to wait, and I
pulled the string, catching one and knocking the other over. It made
so little noise that the rest of the flock were not alarmed, and I
suppose they didn't miss the lost one, for pretty soon they began to
go around the locker, and one flew right on top of it. I was afraid he
would tumble it down, but he didn't, and in a minute another had gone
under. But there was a third hopping right towards the paper, and so I
just waited till he had run under, when--piff!--I had them both!"

"Good for you, Katy!" cried the delighted boys. "You'll make a
sportsman yet!"

Chapter XVI.

HOW TUG MADE "TWITCH-UPS."

"It's cold work, though," Katy replied, "sitting so still out on that
ice. I am just stiff."

"I'll fix that all right," Tug said, showing some small forked and
notched sticks he had cut out of oaken chips. "Come out with me, and
I'll show you how to set a trap that will drop itself, or, rather,
where the bird shuts his own prison door."

Gathering up Jim's blocks and slabs of ice, the whole party climbed to
the top of the hummock, which, as I have said, was almost the only
spot in the wide plain free from deep snow, and Tug went to work.

Making a little hole in the ice, he wedged into it a short,
flat-topped peg, and packed a handful of snow about its base.

Then with the brick-like blocks of ice he arranged a hollow square
around the peg. On top of the peg he laid the flattened side of the
stem of a forked stick, like a letter -< laid flat, and on top of
that, as though it were a continuation of the peg, he set a post
about ten inches high. Asking Aleck to hold these twigs in position
for him, he took one of the slabs, lodged an end of it on the rim of
the little wall made by his "bricks," and gently rested the other end
upon the top of the post, which was held in its upright position under
the pressure, at the same time keeping the -< in place. This arranged,
he spread crumbs about the trap and thickly inside. Then he announced
it ready.

[Illustration: SETTING THE NEW TRAPS.]

"Oh, I see how it works," Katy cried. "The bird, in leaping down, is
almost sure to perch on the forked twig, or, at least, to strike it.
That throws it out of place, and tumbles the whole cover down,
shutting him in."

"Correct!" said Tug, admiringly, as he went to work on a second trap
of the same kind.

This set, all left the hummock (except Jim, who agreed to take his
turn, wrapped in a blanket, at watching the strings) and joined labor
in making two or three more of the new ice traps, for now that the
birds were plenty, they wanted to capture as many as possible.

"If only I had some sort of a spring," Tug announced, "I could make
twitch-ups. I've all the rest of the fixin's, 'cause I found some
horse-hairs in my 'shop' this morning; but I don't see how I am to get
a springy twig or a strip of whalebone. I had some old umbrella-ribs,
but I didn't bring 'em along. Wish I had."

Aleck thought over all his stores, but could remember nothing that
would answer the purpose. "How about your ramrod?" he asked.

"Too stiff," Tug replied.

So they gave up talking, and attended to their work. Suddenly Aleck
went to the log, split off a strip of oak, and whittled it into a thin
rod. "How is that?" he said, as he handed it to his comrade.

Tug beat his hands and blew on his aching fingers a while before
answering. Then he bent the rod gently, but before it was curved half
as far as he needed, it broke.

"No good. Nothing but hickory will stand the strain."

"I'll tell you what you might do, perhaps," Katy suggested, having
come out just in time to witness this little trial. "The handle of the
boat-hook is hickory. If you could make an oak handle for that, you
could split the hickory up into springles, couldn't you?"

"That's so!--that's a bright idea. Try it, Tug," and the Captain ran
off for the boat-hook. The shaft of this was straight-grained,
well-seasoned, and tough, but an oaken staff would serve its purpose
quite as well.

"I should think that would answer first-rate," said Tug, "but you had
better whittle out your oak stick first. It would be rough to be
caught suddenly without any handle to our boat-hook."

"That's so," Aleck assented, and took his axe to split a suitable
piece from the log.

The making and shaping of a new handle, even in the rough, cost him
much labor with his few tools. It was nearly an hour, therefore,
before he was ready to pull the irons off the old handle and fasten
the new one into its place; and fully another hour had passed by the
time this difficult job had been done.

Then, with great care, and by the help of little wedges, a clean,
straight splinter about as thick as your finger was split from the
tough hickory staff. It was tried by the trapmaker, very gently at
first, and bent well, so that it was pronounced serviceable, though
not as good as a green twig or sapling, such as one would cut in the
woods for the same purpose. It would answer to try with, however, and
after a bit of luncheon they watched Tug make his twitch-ups--or, at
least, all did except the one on duty at the strings. As Tug himself
had to take a turn, he didn't get his traps done in time to put them
up that day.

Next morning, however, all were out bright and early to help him do
so. The snow-flakes had been there before, however, and one
unfortunate had stepped on a treacherous fork, and was caught.

Having arranged two more ice-boxes and letter Y traps, for which the
pieces had been cut yesterday, they all gathered around Tug to watch
him set his first twitch-up.

With one of the tent spikes he dug a slanting hole in the ice, into
which he inserted one end of his hickory splint, which was about four
feet long, fastening it firmly by ramming ice and snow down into the
hole beside it, which would quickly freeze solid. A short distance
from the foot of the splint he then laid down a short board, which was
braced at the foot (or end farthest from the splint) against the side
of a trough cut in the ice. The remaining three sides of the board
were then fenced in by small blocks of ice.

Next, taking from his pocket a cord made by twisting two horse-hairs
together, he slipped one end through a loop in the other, thus making
a noose, and tied it to the top of the hickory splint. This done, he
bent down the splint until he hooked its tip under the nearest end, or
head, of the board, which was raised a couple of inches from the
ground. Spreading the noose carefully out upon the board, he sprinkled
within a particularly nice lot of crumbs, then laid a little train