"Well, we shall know, at all events, that we mustn't go east of southeast, and must try to keep as close to that direction as possible. I don't like this sunshine and westerly breeze. I'd much rather the weather kept real cold."
"Why?" said Jim. "It's much nicer when it's warm."
"I'm afraid of snow and fogs, Youngster. Now let us be off."
No snow or fog came to bother them, however, and at sunset they were out of sight of any landmark, and travelling by the compass, like a ship at sea.
You may ask, How could they be sure they were following it truly, since they had no object, like a long bowsprit, to guide the eye in ranging their course into line with the needle point, as the steersman on a ship does when he glances across his binnacle?
This is the plan they took: The compass was a small one, but it was hung in a box so as always to stand level. It was, in fact, an old boat compass which Mr. Kincaid had had for many years. This was set exactly in the middle of the seat at the stern of the boat, where Katy still skated, with her hands resting upon the stern-board. Here she could keep her eye easily upon the face of the compass, and make a straight line from its pointer through the middle of the boat. When the compass point "southeast" and the stem-post of the yawl were in line, she knew they were going on a straight course. When these were out of line, she knew her team had swerved, and she called out "Right!" or "Left!" to bring them back to the true course, just as a quartermaster would order "Port!" and "Starboard!" to his helmsman.
The sun went down slowly at their right hands as they rushed along, and as Jim saw his shadow stretching taller and taller, he found it difficult to keep pace with the older lads. Noting this, the Captain ordered a halt, and put Jim into the boat as a passenger, tying his sled behind.
"Don't you want to ride also?" asked Tug of Katy, very gallantly.
Katy was tired, and one of her skate-straps chafed her instep a little, but she didn't propose to give up.