I see now that it is only a tree root sticking out of the snow."
"Great Scott, Buster! Don't shoot down the trees!" cried Phil, in mock dismay. "They might fall on us, you know!" And a laugh arose at the would-be hunter's expense.
On the students skated, and before long reached a point where the river was parted by a long, narrow strip of land known as Squirrel Island, because squirrels were supposed to abound there. As they reached the lower end of the island Dave held up his hand as a warning.
"I think I saw some partridges ahead," he said, in a low voice. "If they are there we don't want to disturb them. Put down the hamper and take off your skates, and we'll try to bag them."
His chums were not slow in complying with his commands, and soon the crowd was making its way toward the center of the island, where grew a dense clump of cedars. They had to work their way through the brushwood.
"Ouch!" exclaimed Shadow, presently.
"What's the trouble?" whispered Roger.
"Scratched my hand on a bramble bush," was the reply. "But it isn't much."
"Be careful of your guns," cautioned Dave. "Don't let a trigger get caught in a bush or you may have an accident."
