My Strange Rescue, and Other Stories of Sport and Adventure in CanadaOxley, J. Macdonald (James Macdonald)
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My Strange Rescue, and Other Stories of Sport and Adventure in Canada
Oxley, J. Macdonald (James Macdonald)
Canada -- Juvenile fiction; Canada -- Juvenile literature
"I shouldn’t wonder if we had a regular change," said Mr. Ross, casting
a searching glance at the sky, which was evidently losing its sharp blue
tinge and becoming ashen gray in colour. "We often do have a soft spell
about this time of the year. There’ll most likely be snow soon. I hope
it won’t begin before you get home, boys."
"Oh, I think not," replied Phil confidently. "It can’t come much sooner
than the morning."
The hours of the day slipped quickly by, and sharp at four o’clock the
two boys set forth on their long tramp. They certainly were a
prepossessing pair in their white blanket-coats, that became them so
well, tied with broad scarlet sashes, and blue caps with scarlet tassels
on their heads. Bidding good-bye to their parents, who stood at the
door watching them with fond pride, Phil and Bob strode swiftly down the
slope to the lake, and soon were tramping over its broad bosom, upon
which the snow lay deep in undulating waves. Barring the leaden hue of
the sky, the afternoon could hardly have been finer. The stinging cold
was gone, yet the air was keen enough to be bracing. There was little
or no wind. The snow was well packed; and, full of joyful expectations,
the brothers walked on side by side, their broad snow-shoes bearing them
easily upon the very surface of the drifts. Eight miles in two hours
was no remarkable performance for two such expert snow-shoers as they,
and they accomplished it without difficulty, reaching their destination
just as the bell in the tower of the church boomed out six solemn
strokes. Leaving their coats and snow-shoes at a friend’s house, they
hastened to the place where the festival was in full swing, and entered
heartily into the enjoyments, each following his own bent. The
expectations of both were fully satisfied. The supper presented more
dainties on its generous bill of fare than even the capacious appetite
of Bob could comfortably sample, and Phil was not disappointed in the
light that shone from a certain pair of brown eyes that for some
mysterious reason had more attraction for him than anything else the
entertainment offered.
Ten o’clock came all too soon for him, especially as the festival was
not entirely over, although some of those who lived at a distance had
already left; but Bob was rather glad, as the last hour had been
somewhat slow, from his point of view. So siding up to Phil, he
whispered discreetly in his ear,—
"Time to go, Phil; it’s ’most ten o’clock."
Phil pulled out his watch with an incredulous look; but, alas! it told
the same story as Bob, and dearly as he would have liked to linger, he
knew well enough that the sooner they started now the better. So, with
a very regretful adieu to the one whose presence had "made the assembly
shine," he joined his brother at the door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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