“Yes, boom. And then I got onto the mast and leaned against a plank—the cross-plank, it was—and I was all right, except that I was almost dead with the cold, and was afraid I’d freeze to death. So I kept stamping around and throwing my arms about as well as I could without falling into the water again, and after a while I got comparatively warmed up. Then—I suppose I’d been there fifteen or twenty minutes—I began to wonder if I couldn’t get off. You see, I argued that the yacht would have broken through just as soon as the ice became thin, and so it seemed to me that there must be thick ice just back of the boat. But, try as I might, I couldn’t for the life of me decide which was the back of the silly thing and which the front. And I was afraid that I’d go plumping into that beastly cold water again. But after a while I got up my pluck and went to feeling about, letting myself down here and there, and crawling around. But every time I’d try to stand on the ice, down I’d go; and so finally I gave it up. But the climbing about kept me warmed up after a fashion; I dare say I was as warm as a fellow could be with his clothes sopping wet where they weren’t frozen stiff. So I crawled back to the mast again and set out to holler.
“I wish you could have heard me! I yelled in forty different styles. And when I couldn’t think of anything else I cheered; cheered for Hilton, cheered for The Sleet, cheered for the ice-houses, and incidentally, my young friends, cheered myself. And then my voice and my breath gave out, and I stood still a while and kicked my frozen feet against the plank and thought about fires and cups of hot coffee and things to eat until I was nearly crazy. And then I saw some lights flickering away off in the distance to the right of the ice-houses, and began yelling again. And that’s about all. There were three fellows with lanterns and they got a piece of plank or something and took me off. And what do you think?” he asked disgustedly. “There was thick ice, half a foot thick, within three feet of me all the time!
“A man who said he was the station-master took me up to a house, and they gave me some blankets and things and dried my clothes and poured hot coffee and brandy stuff into me, and I went to sleep for a while in front of a big round stove; and was never so happy in my life. Afterward I ate some supper; my, fellows, but it was good! And then, in about an hour or so, Professor Beck popped in and said that he didn’t want to hurry me, but that if I’d quite finished bathing we’d go home. The station fellow—I believe I’ve forgotten his name—said he’d attend to having the ice-yacht hauled out for us, and would look after it until we sent for it.”
“Do you think it’s much broken up?” asked Carl.
“I don’t know,” replied Dick vigorously, “and what’s more, I don’t care a continental!”
The Sleet, to anticipate a trifle, went back to its former owner at a loss to the shareholders of six dollars, and a faculty edict was solemnly published prohibiting forevermore at Hillton Academy the fascinating and exhilarating sport of ice-yachting.