With an effort, he swung round and let go his hold on the sapling. The sensation of suspense and uncertainty deepened swiftly as he found the skates slowly carrying him away from the shore, while at the same time he realized that his feet were spreading farther and farther apart, a thing he could not seem to prevent.
“Great smoke!” he gasped. “I’ll split plumb in two if this keeps up. Ugh!”
The final grunt was pounded from his lips as he came down sprawlingly upon the solid ice.
For at least thirty seconds he sat there, scratching his head in a state of doubt and chagrin.
“I’ve ridden buckers,” he said, “and I’ve even busted one or two bad ones; but I knew how to go at that job, while this business has got me stuck complete. I’m guessing some.”
His perplexity was rapidly changing to annoyance and vexation. Getting on his knees, he cautiously placed his right foot beneath him and attempted to rise. In a twinkling he was stretched at full length upon his stomach.
“Dash the things!” he cried savagely. “I don’t see how anybody ever stands on them, much less goes scooting around doing fancy tricks. Maybe if I could get Stone to give me some pointers I might catch onto the game. But I don’t want any one to give me pointers,” he continued warmly. “I’ll learn how to skate all by my lonesome, or I’ll break my wooden head.”
Aroused to this point, he continued his efforts with grim and unabated determination, in spite of repeated falls, some of which shook him up thoroughly and quite knocked the wind out of him. He was just beginning to fancy himself making slight progress when a burst of laughter caused him to twist his neck round to glance toward the nearby shore, which incautious movement again sent him flat upon the ice.
“Woosh!” he wheezed, sitting up.
“Oh! ho! ho! ho!” shouted some one, who seemed to be literally choking with merriment.