“What did you expect?” asked his brother, smiling.
“But, old man! we’re going to race with this thing!”
“Of course.”
“And the Fly-up-the-Creek can beat her out—easy.”
“Sure of that; are you?”
“What you got up your sleeve, Dannie?” the other demanded. “Did you get all the speed out of her you could?”
“You saw that she was wide open,” chuckled Dan. “But you forget that we had no sail set. Let’s get the mast up and the sail bent on. Then we’ll give her a fair trial.”
Billy shook his head, however. He had believed that his brother’s invention was going to prove as fast as a power-launch, without any canvas.
The mast and sail were both ready. They had the new boat rigged in an hour. There was still a full hour before sunset and again Dan took his place in the stern while Billy raised the sail.
The canvas of the Follow Me was not as heavy as that of the Speedwells’ first iceboat. They had made some short runs in the Fly-up-the-Creek that had equalled fifty miles an hour—and more. Billy’s heart had fallen pretty nearly to his boots. He did not believe the Follow Me could do anything like that.