“It was lucky you hit him,” went on Boxy, gratefully. “If you hadn’t he would have chewed me up.” “He was a tough customer, and no mistake,” rejoined Harry. “See what a splendid white tail!” “He’s a pretty big one. Will you take him along as he is?” “I’ll have to; I can’t skin him here very well. Do you want to go after another?” Boxy gave a shiver. “Not to-night,” he returned. “I’ve had enough hunting for the present. It’s something a fellow has got to get used to.” “I doubt very much if we could get another,” remarked Harry. “The shots have probably scattered them from the neighborhood. They know what a gun will do just as well as we.” Harry brought out a string from his pocket, and with this tied the dead fox to the barrel of his gun, which he slung over his shoulder. “Our quarter of an hour is up and more,” remarked Boxy, as they turned to go back to the river. “The others must be close to Rudd’s Landing by this time.” “I guess you are not as cold as you were,” laughed Harry. “I feel as warm as toast now.” “Yes, such an adventure is enough to stir up any one’s blood,” rejoined Boxy, dubiously. “But I’d just as lief remain a bit cold hereafter.” “You may expect greater adventures than this when we get to our winter camp, Boxy. Supposing that fox had been a bear, or even a big wolf?” Boxy did not reply to this. Somehow, just then the camping out did not seem so much sport after all. They were soon on the river, and, crossing to the other shore, started after their companions. It was growing colder every moment, and the breeze on the ice, little as it was, went through them like a knife. They were glad enough when they saw numerous lights ahead, which they knew must be the town for which they were bound. Presently they came upon a party of skaters, and from them learned that the _Icicle_ had passed on but a few minutes before. They kept on, and just before Barton Coils’ boathouse was reached, they overtook their companions. “Got a fox, sure enough!” cried Andy. “Who shot it?” “Harry, and he saved my life doing it,” replied Boxy, and, hardly waiting to catch his breath, he told his story, to which those who had gone on ahead listened with keen interest. By the time Boxy had finished, the boathouse, at which the _Icicle_ was to be left, was reached, and, leaving the iceboat and the sled in a safe place, all hands rushed into the building to warm up around the red-hot stove, which to them looked to be just then the most inviting thing in the world. Barton Coils, a jolly man of forty, received them cordially, and soon made them feel at home. “I’ll bet ye had a most uncommon cold run of it,” he said. “And a cup of hot coffee will be just the thing to warm your inwards, eh?” and he straightway set about preparing, not only coffee, but a whole hot supper for them in his tiny kitchen in the rear.