“Let go it is!” Nat managed to repeat, as he pulled up his pole.
The sled slung around straight again, and continued to slide, but the steering had been successful, for they passed well to one side of the hole.
“I guess a light jab will be all we’ll need to change the course of this schooner,” remarked Bony. “No more of those ‘hard ’a port’ orders, Jack.”
“That’s right. We had a narrow escape.”
On and on they went, Jack watching carefully for holes or rocks, that he might call orders to steer to one side or the other of them. The sled answered her “helm” readily, and, when there was need to slacken speed, the same poles served as brakes.
There was still a long snowy stretch before them, though they had come a mile or more. It was fully five miles to the bottom of the slope, where the valley began and where they knew the mysterious men were encamped.
The course they were on led almost straight down, and, by some curious freak of nature, it was quite like a cleared road down the side of the mountain. There were few trees in the path the sled was taking, and it seemed as if, in ages gone by, a great snowslide or avalanche had gone crashing down the declivity, preparing a path upon which, however, few would have ventured.
Now the speed, which had slackened on a place where the slope was not so great, became faster. The wind whistled in the ears of the boys, and the broad runners were throwing up a fine shower of frozen snow.
Faster and faster the bob went. It was skimming along like a great bird now, and the course was so clear that there was no need of steering.
Suddenly Jack spied, just ahead of them, a great boulder, partly covered with snow. To strike it meant a disaster, and the sled was headed right for it.