"We don't want to be drowned," said Henry. He had not forgotten an icy bath he had once taken.
By noon the party had covered fifteen miles, those on shore having all they could do to keep up with those on the ice-boat, even though the clumsy craft had to be towed around certain bends and dangerous spots in the stream. For a mile of the distance they came to so much open water, that they did not dare to board the craft.
"Now here is a good spot for sailing!" said Henry, about two o'clock. Before them was a straight stretch of four or five miles, with the wind exactly on their backs. "I'll wager we can make that distance in jig time."
Once more his uncle and himself got on the ice-boat. With them were two hunters who had been wounded in the lower limbs. The rude sail was hoisted, Henry gave a vigorous shove, and off they set at a rate of speed which was slow at the beginning, but which appeared steadily to increase.
"A fellow could fairly fly along here with a good ice-boat," said James Morris, who was in the bow, watching for dangerous cracks, or open water.
"We can't complain," replied Henry. "We'll leave the rest of the party behind this trip."
"It is not a very good plan to separate, Henry. With so many of the enemy around we ought to keep pretty close together."
"When we reach the end of this stretch we can wait for the others to come up," said the youth, who hated to think of giving up the chance for a little sport.
On and on they went, the runners making a merry skir—r—r on the ice. Occasionally they would go over a lump with a bump that threatened to pitch them off. But all held tight, and no accident of that kind occurred.
"I never knew there was so much fun in ice-boating," declared Henry. "I wish we didn't have so many troubles to think about—we might have a fine time."