The boy harnessed himself with the long tow-rope and skated away from the shore, dragging the sled after him at a brisk pace. Chet was a fine skater, and although the surface of the ice was rather spongy he had no difficulty in making good time towards the mouth of the cove. “Oh, my!” squealed Carolyn May, “there isn’t anybody else on the ice.” “We won’t run into nobody, then,” laughed the boy. There were schooners and barges and several steam craft tied up at the docks. These had been frozen in all winter. They would soon be free, and lake traffic would begin again. It was too misty outside the cove to see the open water; but it was there, and Chet knew it as well as anybody. He had no intention of taking any risks—especially with Carolyn May in his charge. The wind blew out of the cove, too. As they drew away from the shelter of the land they felt its strength. It was not a frosty wind. Indeed, the temperature was rising rapidly, and, as Chet had said, there was a hint of spring in the air. Naturally, neither the boy nor the little girl—and surely not the dog—looked back towards the land. Otherwise, they would have seen the snow flurry that swept down over the town and quickly hid it from the cove. Chet was skating his very swiftest. Carolyn May was screaming with delight. Prince barked joyfully. And, suddenly, in a startling fashion, they came to a fissure in the ice! The boy darted to one side, heeled on his right skate, and stopped. He had jerked the sled aside, too, yelling to Carolyn May to “hold fast!” But Prince was flung from it, and scrambled over the ice, barking loudly. “Oh, dear me!” cried Carolyn May. “You stopped too quick, Chet Gormley. Goodness! There’s a hole in the ice!” “And I didn’t see it till we was almost in it,” acknowledged Chet. “It’s more’n a hole. Why! there’s a great field of ice broke off and sailin’ out into the lake.” “Oh, my!” gasped the little girl, awed, “isn’t that great, Chet?” “It’s great that we didn’t get caught on it,” muttered Chet, deeply impressed by the peril. “We can’t go any farther, can we?” she asked. “Nope. Got to turn back. Why, hullo! it’s snowin’!” “Dear me! and we didn’t bring any umbrella,” observed Carolyn May. “You call Prince. I guess we’d better get back,” Chet said more seriously. “We’re three miles from town, if we’re an inch.” “And we can’t see the town or the boats or the docks! Oh, Chet! isn’t this _fun_? I never was out in a snowstorm on the ice before.” The snow was damp and clung to their clothing. Chet saw that it was going to clog his skates, too. He would not let the child see that he was worried; but the situation was no ordinary one. In the first place, it was hard to tell the points of the compass in the snowstorm. Prince might be able to smell his way back to land; but Chet Gormley was not endowed with the same sense of smell that Prince possessed.