Captain Vane was fastening the drag-line to the fore part of the light sledge, and refused, at first, to listen to the boy’s entreaties, fearing that some accident might befall him.
“You know how accustomed I am to manage the kites, father. There’s not the least fear; and I’ll be superhumanly cautious.”
There was no resisting Benjy’s tone and eyes. He was allowed to take his place on the sledge as manager. Butterface sat behind to steer. Steering was to be managed by means of a stout pole, pressed varyingly on the snow on either side.
“Don’t go more than a mile or so, my boy,” said the Captain, in a serious tone. “It’s only a trial, you know. If it succeeds, we’ll divide the loading of the sledges, and make a fair start in company.”
Benjy promised to manipulate the check-string with care. The struggling natives were ordered to let the kite straighten the slack of the line gradually.
“Are you ready, Ben?”
“All right, father.”
“Got your hand on the check-string? Mind, it will pull hard. Now—let go!”
The natives obeyed. Benjy at the same instant hauled sharply on the check-string, intending to tilt the kite well forward, and start in a slow, stately manner, but there was a hitch of some sort somewhere, for the string would not act. The kite acted, however, with its full force. Up went the fore part of the sledge as it flew off like an arrow from a bow, causing Butterface to throw a back somersault, and leaving him behind.
Benjy held on to the head of the sledge, and made violent efforts to free the check-string. Fortunately, the surface of the snow was smooth.