ing to come down hard soon. And the
wind is freshening."

The white flakes did increase in volume a little later and the wind
sighed mournfully through the pine trees on shore, and through the
rigging of the ice boat.

Then, with a suddenness that was almost terrifying, the storm broke over
them in a fury so often witnessed in wintry outbursts. The snow was
blinding, and was whipped into their faces by an ever-increasing wind.

"Why--why, we can't see ten feet ahead!" cried Frank.

"Oh, slow down--don't run into anything!" begged Betty.

"I guess I had better lay to a while, until we see what it's going to
do," decided Allen, as he lowered the sail. "It's too much of a risk.
There may be open water, or an air hole, or another boat on the river."

And then, as the craft came slowly to a stop, they gazed out at the big
storm which enveloped them, hiding the shores from sight.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MISSING PIECE

"Say, this is no fun!" exclaimed Will, when ten minutes had passed, with
no cessation of the fury of the wind and whirling white flakes.

"It is keeping up," spoke Mollie in a low tone. "Can we ever get back to
camp?"

"Of course!" cried Betty quickly. It was no time now to have anyone's
nerves go to pieces. "Certainly we can get back, if we have to walk;
can't we, boys?" and she gave Allen a look that made his eyes sparkle as
he answered:

"Certainly. It will be more fun walking, anyhow."

"Spoken like a true hero," said Will in his ear.

"The boat can't go if the snow gets very deep," observed Frank.

"And it is getting heavier every minute," declared Amy, looking over the
side of the cockpit of the ice boat, and brushing some of the white
crystals from the frozen surface of the river. "There's nearly half an
inch now," and she shivered slightly.

"Are you cold, dear?" asked Betty, passing over a spare blanket, for
they had brought along plenty of coverings and wraps.

"No, not exactly cold, Betty, but----"

"Don't say you're worried, my dear," whispered Betty, as she tucked some
stray strands of hair under her Tam-o'-Shanter. "Grace is so nervous
lately," went on Betty, under pretense of wrapping the robe around Amy.
"I don't know what is the matter with her, but she seems to fly to
pieces if you look at her."

"Perhaps it's worry about this lumber camp business."

"It may be. Anyhow we don't want to get her alarmed. We may have hard
enough time as it is."

"Oh, Betty! Do you thi