"You saw how he slipped
about in the soft snow the other day when they had him out. He is not shod
properly."
"If you only had Ida Bellethorne here!" cried Betty.
"But she is a long way off, and in the wrong direction. Why, none of us
could walk on this ice!"
"How about skating?" cried Bobby eagerly.
"Mr. Canary says it is all downhill--or mostly to the railroad station,"
Betty said. "I would be afraid to skate downhill."
They dressed quickly and hastened to find Uncle Dick. He had long been up
and had evidently canvassed the situation thoroughly. His face was very
grave when he met his niece and her friends.
"This is a bad lookout for our trip," he said. "I don't really see how any
of you will get to school on Monday, let alone Ida's reaching New York
to-morrow morning."
"Oh, Uncle Dick, don't say that!" cried Betty. "Is it positive that we
cannot ride or walk?"
"Walk twenty miles downhill on ice?" he exclaimed, "Does it seem
reasonable? We can neither ride nor walk; and surely we cannot swim or
fly!"
"We could fly if we had an aeroplane. Oh, dear!" sighed Bobby.
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