"Why, yes, I thought of taking a little run, down the river this time, perhaps as far as Bellport. The wind is just too good to be lost. If it dies out and leaves me stranded why, this time I can get back on the trolley. Don't suppose you feel like going with me, after getting a headache from that hit this morning?"
"I might be tempted. Somehow skating doesn't seem to appeal to me just now. Yes, I'll go you, Lanky, if you promise not to take any chances, or try to beat a mile-a-minute gait," laughed the other.
"Done. And five minutes more will see me through here. Glad you dropped in on me. I never like to go anywhere alone; and yet I can amuse myself at home by the hour without company."
"How is it you don't want to go up the river this time?" asked Frank, looking at his chum meaningly.
"I see you're on, all right, Frank. The truth of the matter is I'm just getting my dander up about that puzzle. I might find out the truth by going to see Bill, and asking him plainly what his last name is, and how he comes to know me; but I just won't do it."
"The fact is, you're stubborn by nature, and the more this thing bothers you the stronger your determination to think it out for yourself; is that it, Lanky?"
"Sure thing. And just you wait and see if I don't do it too. Now we're ready to get moving. Help me push out, and we'll be off on the jump," and Lanky took hold of his novel craft with a will.
Frank fastened his skates to the framework, so they could not come loose and be lost. They were regulation hockey skates, with a blunt end that was calculated not to seriously injure any player with whose shins they might come in contact. Three of those fellows who backed Lef Seller in his game had worn skates that would never have been allowed in a regular match, as their sharp points were a constant menace to all others who came near the rapidly revolving skaters.
"Wow! ain't this just immense?" cried Lanky, as they rapidly passed under the railroad bridge and shot away like a streak down the stream, leaving the last of the shouting skaters far in the lurch.
"It certainly feels fine," admitted his comrade, crouching there on the framework that constituted the hull of the novel craft.