CHAPTER XVIII

ON SKATES

You have probably all seen pictures of regular snowshoes, even if you have not seen real snowshoes, so you know how much like big lawn-tennis rackets they look.  Snowshoes are broad and flat, and fasten on outside of one’s regular shoes, so a person can walk on the soft snow, or on the hard crust, without sinking down in.

The Indians used to make snowshoes by bending a frame of wood into almost the shape of a tennis racket—­except it had no long handle—­and then stretching pieces of the skins of animals across this.

“But I’m not going to make that kind,” said Russ.

“What kind are you going to make?” asked Laddie as he watched his brother.

“Oh, mine’s going to be easier than that.”

Russ took a long, thin barrel stave, that was curved up a little on either end.  To the middle of the stave he tacked some pieces of rope and string.

“That’s to tie the shoe to your foot,” he explained to Laddie.

In a little while, with his brother’s help, Russ had made four of the barrel-stave snowshoes—­a pair for himself and a pair for Laddie.

“Now all we have to do,” said Russ, “is to tie ’em on and walk out on the snow.  We won’t sink down in, as we do with our regular feet, and we can go as fast as anything.”

“Won’t we fall?” asked Laddie.

“We’ll hold on to the poles.  That’s what I got ’em for,” said Russ.

In a short time he and his brother had fastened the barrel staves to their shoes, winding and tying the cords and ropes, and even some old straps around and around.  Their feet looked very queer—­almost like those of some clown in the circus.  But Laddie and Russ did not mind that.  They wanted to walk on the home-made snowshoes.

“Come on!” called Russ, as he shuffled across the barn floor toward the door, from which led a big stretch of deep, white snow.  “Come on, Laddie!”

“I—­I can’t seem to walk,” the little fellow said.  “I keep stepping on my feet all the while.”

This was very true.  As he took one step he would put the other snowshoe down on the one he had moved last, and then he could not raise the underneath foot.

“Spread your legs apart and sort of slide along,” said Russ.  “Then you won’t step on your own feet.  Do it this way.”

Russ separated one foot from the other as far as he could, and then he shuffled along, not raising his feet.  He found this the best way, and soon he was at the barn door, with Laddie behind him.

“Come on now, we’ll start and walk on the snow, and we’ll s’prise Daddy and Mother,” cried Russ.

He did manage to glide over the snow, the broad, long barrel staves keeping him from sinking in the soft drifts.  Laddie did not do quite so well, but he managed to get along.

The boys held long poles, which helped to keep them from falling over, and, at first, so uneven was the walking that they might have fallen if it had not been for the long staffs.