ter for an instant. 'I suspect we might
almost embark ourselves, Arthur, for the breeze is right upon it.'

A few minutes of great velocity bore them down on the headland. They
stopped for breath, the turned-up prow of their ice-boat resting even in
the brush on shore. Then they coasted awhile, until another wide curve
of the pond spread in front.

By this time the falling snow was sufficiently dense to blur distant
outlines, and an indistinct foggy whiteness took the place of the
remaining daylight. Mr. Holt hesitated whether to adopt the safer and
more laborious plan of following the windings of the shore, or to strike
across boldly, and save a mile of meandering by one rapid push ahead.
The latter was Arthur's decided choice.

'Well, here goes!' and by the guiding rope in his hand Mr. Holt turned
the head of the ice-boat before the wind. They grasped the balustrades
at each side firmly, and careered along with the former delightful
speed; until suddenly, Arthur was astonished to see his companion cast
himself flat on the ice, bringing round the sledge with a herculean
effort broadside to the breeze. A few feet in front lay a dark patch on
the white plain--_a breathing-hole_.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE FOREST MAN.

During the momentary pause that followed the bringing up of the ice-boat
broadside to the breeze, they could hear the fluctuating surge of deep
waters, sucking, plunging--in that large dark patch on the ice. An
instant more of such rapid progression would have sunk them in it,
beyond all hope.

'Live and learn, they say,' remarked Sam Holt, rising from his prostrate
position beside the cargo; 'and I certainly had yet to learn that
breathing-holes could form at such an early period in the winter as
this. We had better retrace our steps a bit, Wynn; for the ice is
probably unsound for some distance about that split.'

'A merciful escape,' said Arthur, after they had worked their way
backwards a few yards.

'Ay, and even if we could have pulled up ourselves on the brink, the
sledge must have been soused to a dead certainty. Had the snow-flakes
been a trifle thicker, we wouldn't have seen the hole till we were
swimming, I guess. And it's well this cord of Uncle Zack's was rotten,
or the sail would have been too much for my pull.' One of the ropes
stretching the lower side of the blanket had snapped under the sudden
pressure of Sam Holt's vigorous jerk round, and thereby lessened the
forward force.