“Ice-boat,” grunted Joe. “I told you so. All smashed up.”
The ice-boat lay on its side, its mast broken in two, its sails torn to ribbons, its understructure smashed. It had evidently been going at a good rate of speed and had overturned when it swung too far over in the wind. They could see the figure of a man pinned beneath the wreckage.
Hastily, the boys knelt down to extricate the victim. When Frank saw who the man was, he gave a shout of surprise.
“Hanleigh!”
“Get me out of here,” snarled Hanleigh. “My leg is broken.”
The lads wasted no time in dragging their enemy from beneath the wreckage of the ice-boat. He was groaning with pain.
“I can’t walk!” he moaned. “You’ll have to carry me. My leg is broken.”
The boys raised Hanleigh on their shoulders. There was no use trying to save the ice-boat. It was wrecked beyond all chance of repair.
“How did you come to be out here on a day like this?” demanded Frank, as they started the journey back to Cabin Island.
Hanleigh made no reply. He was moaning with pain. His right leg hung limply, but Frank’s practiced eye saw at a glance that it was not broken.