“Say! them three villings was powerful mean to me,” objected the boatman. “What they’d do to a couple of boys——”
“We needn’t get into a tussle with them,” said Dan, quickly. “We’ll just get on their trail—if we can.”
“We can,” cried Billy, confidently, and ran out of the cabin at once.
His brother was soon after him. They unleashed the bigger iceboat and pushed her off from the dock. There was a strong gale blowing, but they had been out in some pretty keen blows with the Fly-up-the-Creek, and knew well how to manage her.
“Sure they went up stream?” asked Dan, as he helped Billy raise the big sail.
“Pos-i-tive!”
“Then——We’re off! Look out for yourself, Billy, when the boom swings over.”
Dan barely caught the stern of the craft and scrambled in. The wind had filled the canvas suddenly, and she shot out from the dock. He had her in hand in a minute, however, and sent the boom creaking over and they got upon the right tack.
Almost at once the iceboat set a pace that made the boys cower and cling as they could to the rocking, wrenching timbers of the craft. The gale did not show its fury until they were well out of the lee of the land.
Then the boys discovered that it was snowing, too. The few flakes that had whistled past them while they were riding down to the dock had gathered in infinite numbers now. The gale whipped them along so speedily that they did not seem to touch the ice at all; yet the air was soon filled with hurrying, stinging ice particles which blinded them.