Then, taking turns, Flossie and Freddie told the story of the runaway
ice-boat, and of having left the rest of their family several miles away
on the ice.

"We tried to stop, but we couldn't," said Flossie. "And, oh, dear! I
wonder where Daddy and Mother are now." Flossie spoke as though it would
not take much to make her cry.

"Don't worry," said Uncle Jack, as every one around Lakeport called him.
"If your father and mother don't come for you I'll take you home."

"It--it's a long way to walk," said Freddie with a sigh. "And I guess
Flossie is hungry. Aren't you?" he asked of his little sister.

"Well--a little," admitted the blue-eyed girl twin.

"How about you, little man?" asked Uncle Jack.

"I--I guess I am, too," Freddie admitted. "Have you got anything to eat?"

"Well, maybe we can find something in my cabin," said the old man. He had
left his axe sticking in a tree near where the ice-boat had run into the
snow bank, and was leading the children along by either hand. Flossie and
Freddie looked up into his kindly, wrinkled face, the cheeks glowing red
like two rosy apples, and they knew they would be well taken care of.
Uncle Jack was a fine, honest man, and he was always kind to children,
who, often in the Summer, would gather flowers near his lonely log cabin.

In a little while Flossie and Freddie were seated in front of a stove, in
which crackled a hot fire, eating bread and milk, which was the best the