“Ready!” cried Frank.
“Ready!”
“We’re off!”
The boats glided out onto the ice of the bay. There was a stiff breeze blowing and the boys anticipated a quick run to the island. The wind was strong and the sky was clear. The two boats sped alongside one another, their sails billowing.
The city was swiftly left behind and the open bay lay ahead. The winter air brought the flush of health to the boys’ cheeks. Once in a while they waved to one another. The shores sped past.
Frank, at the tiller of the Hardy boys’ craft, swung the boat around so that it got the full benefit of the breeze, and it forged ahead, leaving the other behind. This meant a race, so Biff brought his boat around with the wind and soon managed to overhaul his rivals. A vagrant breeze gave him the advantage for a while and he gained steadily while the Hardy boys, to their chagrin, lagged behind, but the breeze soon changed. Biff found himself running against the wind before he realized it. The Hardy boys’ craft scudded swiftly across the ice, overtook him, then shot across his bows.
Frank and Joe maintained their lead from then on, taking advantage of every change in the wind, and in due time they came within sight of the dark bulk of Cabin Island, looming against the distant line of the shore.
Joe stood up and waved his arms in excitement. There was an answering wave from Chet, in the speeding craft to the rear.
Frank swung the boat toward the south, down into the cove. They drew closer to the island.
“Our friend Hanleigh can’t bother us now,” laughed Frank.