Nan.

"Snowshoes," was his answer.

"What are snowshoes?" Freddie demanded

"Shoes made so you can walk on top of the soft snow instead of sinking
down in it," Bert replied. "Of course I can't make the kind the Indians
and hunters make, which look something like lawn tennis rackets, but I
know how to make another kind. I saw a picture of them in a book."

But before Bert started to make his snowshoes he made the little hill
better for coasting. That night he poured water on the snow that covered
it, and, as the weather was cold, the water and snow froze into a
glaring stretch of ice.

And my! how Flossie and Freddie did whizz down the hill on their sleds
then. It was perfectly safe, though, for Bert had put little strips of
wood on the edges of the wooden hill, so the sleds would not slide off
to one side.

When Charley Mason came over to see Bert one day he found his friend
busy in the barn with some barrel staves, old skate straps, a hammer,
nails and other things.

"What are you doing?" asked Charley.

"Making snowshoes," Bert answered. "I'm using barrel staves. They are
long and broad, and if I can fasten them to my feet with straps I can
walk along on top of the snow, and not sink in."

"I don't believe barrel staves will make very good snowshoes," Charley
said.

"Just you wait," answered Bert.

He fastened the straps to the middle of the pieces of barrel, and then
strapped the strips of wood to his shoes.

"Now watch me!" Bert cried.

Back of the barn was a field covered deep with snow. It had not been
trampled down.

"I'm going to walk out there," Bert said.

He shuffled across the floor of the barn. He could only lift his feet up
a little way, for if he raised them too far the barrel staves would have
become criss-crossed and have tripped him. So Bert had to shuffle along
just like a Chinese laundryman who wears those funny straw slippers
without any heels.

Charley opened the back door of the barn for Bert, who stepped out into
the snow. He shuffled along a little way, and did very well, for the
broad, smooth pieces of wood under his feet did not sink down in the
snow, which had a hard crust on top.

"See! What did I tell you?" cried Bert to Charley. "I'm walking on the
snow all right!"

But just as he said that a queer thing happened. He came to a place
where the shining sun had made the snow very soft. In spite of the
barrel staves, first one of Bert's feet sank down and then the othe