“You ’ll do,” said Prudence, smiling. “I can easily borrow extra shoes and moccasins for you. This snow will make things just right for next Wednesday.”
When Wednesday dawned, there was a light crust on the snow; the sky was dull, but the air was warm, with the wind from the south.
“It looks almost like rain,” said Bob. “It is n’t cold enough for snow. Don’t wear too many wraps, girls.”
“That’s good advice,” said Prudence. “No matter how cold it is when we start, I always wish I could hang my jacket up on a bush and leave it there forever. If it was n’t for coming home in a trolley-car afterward I should n’t wear one,”
“Still,” said Grace, looking admiringly at her cousin’s becoming red-and-white blanket suit,” it would be a pity not to wear a jacket as pretty as that. I’m so glad you borrowed this one for me.”
Bob, too, was in red and white, with scarlet toque and sash.
“Come, Prudence, hurry up,” said he, tucking the girls’ snow-shoes and his own under his arm. “We ‘re four minutes late already.”
“Oh, four minutes don’t matter,” said Prudence, easily; “what are four minutes!”
“Remember Waterloo,” replied Bob. “If Grouchy—”
“Pooh! Bob, I ’m tired of Grouchy and Waterloo too,” said Prudence. “Dear me! De wait until I get a handkerchief—I ’m not half ready. Oh, yes, I nearly forgot my gloves.”
In the school-yard where the two clubs met, Bob gallantly strapped the long, slender shoes, of Canadian make, to the girls’ moccasined feet. The gay precession, all in red and white, with tassels bobbing on scarlet caps, and long, bright sash ends fluttering, made an interesting, and, to Grace, a novel sight. She was so pleased with it all that she forgot that she was a novice, and walked off as naturally as if she had worn snow-shoes all her life. The captains of the two clubs walked together, leading their torch-bearing followers across the plains, where acres of unbroken snow seemed to stretch endlessly before them.
For an hour and twenty minutes the sturdy snow-shoers tramped steadily ahead over level plains that presently gave place to a vast black forest, where the flickering torches threw weird shadows among the straight dark pines.
Suddenly the leaders began to shout: “Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!”
Every voice chimed in; Grace shouted with the others and then asked what it meant.
“It’s the club yell,” explained Bob. “We ’re near the club-house, and this will let the folks that are getting supper know that we ‘re coming—and coming hungry.”
An answering “Hi! Hi!” came from the open door of a long, low-roofed log cabin, surrounded by tall pine-trees. In the huge fireplace a number of four-foot logs blazed merrily, and a coffee-boiler hanging from an iron crane sent forth a most inviting aroma. A long table laden with all sorts of good things awaited the hungry trampers.
The supper despatched, the tables were cleared, every one lending a hand. One of the chaperones took possession of the piano and started a lively college song.
The evening was a merry one. No one gave a thought to the weather or to going home. The cabin was on the electric-car line, and on snow-shoe nights cars ran, by special arrangement, every half-hour. Usually, however, the entire party liked to crowd into the very last car, which started for town just before midnight.
At half-past ten a spirited game of fox and geese was in progress. Deliberate Prudence had just been captured by the fox, when the outer door was pushed open and a figure, covered from head to heels with snow, entered the room.
“Say,” gasped the man, obviously panting for breath, “if you folks want to get to town to-night, you ‘ll have ta go right now. It was all we could do to get the car through the drifts, and it ‘ll be worse going back. The way ’s opened up now, but it won’t stay open for very long in this gale.”
“Hurry up, girls!” shouted one of the captains, who had taken a hasty glance out of doors. “There ’s a blizzard, sure enough. Get your wraps on as fast as you can.”
The motorman walked to the fireplace, pulled off his heavy gloves and warmed his