“It was. I put a door at each end so Caesar could get in and out easily, but the fool dog thought it was a tunnel and used to run through it full-tilt like an express train.”
“Get out!” said Dick.
“Fact, really! He’d get a good start and go through like sixty; and he used to whistle as he went in.”
“Chub Eaton!” cried Harry. “You come on home after that!”
“All right,” laughed Chub. “This is no place for genius, anyway. After you, Miss Estrella De Vere.”
[CHAPTER XIII]
THE BOREAS TAKES THE ICE
When Saturday came the four walked over to the Cove through a blinding snow-storm to view the ice-boat. Dick piloted them down to the edge of the river, where, in a little shed in Johnson’s Shipyard, were two timbers bolted and braced together in the shape of a cross which Dick declared was the ice-boat. The mast was ready but not yet stepped and the narrow oval at one end which Dick called a cockpit was still unfinished. Harry was distinctly disappointed.
“I’d be afraid to sail on that, Dick,” she confided earnestly. “I might tumble off.”