“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 other.  A funny look came over his face.

“What’s the matter?” asked Charley, who was watching him.

“I—­I’m stuck!” cried Bert.  “I can’t get my feet up!  The staves are caught under the snow, and I can’t move!  Come and pull me out!”

CHAPTER XIX

THROUGH THE ICE

Charley was laughing so hard at the queer look on Bert’s face, and at the funny way in which Bert stood in the snow, that, at first, he did not make a move to go to his chum’s help.  Then Bert cried again: 

“I am stuck I tell you, Charley!  Come on and help me.  I can’t lift my feet.”

“Can’t you, really?” Charley asked.

“No.  The front edges of the barrel staves have slipped under the snow and it’s packed on them so I can’t raise them.”

“All right, I’ll help you,” said Charley, still laughing.  He waded out to where Bert was stuck.  Charley’s feet sank down deep in the soft snow.  “I ought to have a pair of those shoes myself,” he said, floundering along.

“Well, don’t stop to make them now,” said Bert.  “Help me first.”

But even with Charley’s help it was impossible to pull up Bert’s feet with the queer wooden shoes on.  They had got stuck sideways in the deep snow.  Finally Charley said.

“Oh, take ’em off, Bert!  Loosen the straps and then you can pull your feet free, and lift up the barrel staves afterward.”

“I guess that is the only way,” Bert agreed, and he did it.  Once his feet were clear of the staves, it was easy enough to raise them up and then he could wade back to the barn, carrying the staves.