It was almost beyond the power of the lads to give any adequate description of what had happened, so rapidly had events shaped themselves. Tom managed to crawl out of the tilted cockpit.
“Allow me,” he said, in his best manner, as he extended his hand to help up Miss Philock.
“Oh! Are you sure there’s no danger?” she asked, hesitating to trust herself to him. “Is there a hole in the ice?”
“None whatever,” Tom assured her. “Unfortunately we ran you down with the ice boat, but I trust you are not hurt.”
Just then Phil managed to scramble out of the tangle of sail and mast, and his face was revealed in the moonlight. Miss Philock knew him for the brother of one of her charges.
“Oh, Mr. Clinton!” she cried. “I never would have believed it of you!”
“An accident, I do assure you,” interposed Phil. “It could not be helped. I hope you are not hurt, Professor Tines.”
“Hurt! Humph! Little you care whether I am or not. I shall report you to Dr. Churchill as soon as I reach college. It is scandalous!”
The Latin teacher managed to scramble to his feet, ignoring the proffered hand of Phil. Sid, Frank and Dutch managed to crawl out from under the ice boat.
“Whew!” whistled Dutch, looking at the broken mast.