"It is now or never!" mumbled B.J., clenching his teeth after the manner of all well-regulated desperados.
XVIII
He sneaked into his clothes, and descended the cold, creaking staircase in his stocking-feet. Then he put on his rubber boots, and stole out of the house like a burglar.
The wind would have wrecked any umbrella alive; but he cared naught for the rain, and hurried down the street where the Twins were sleeping the sleep of the righteous. He threw pebbles at their windows till they were awakened; and after a proper amount of deliberation in which each requested the other to go to the window, both went hand in hand on their shivering toes.
When they had leaned out and learned what B.J. invited them to, they reminded him that he was either crazy or walking in his sleep.
But B.J. answered back that they were either talking in their sleep or were "cowardy calves."
The worst of all fools is the one that is afraid to take a dare; and the Twins were—well, let us say they were not yet wide enough awake to know what they were doing. At any rate, they could not stand the banter of B.J., and had soon joined him in the soaking storm outside.
When the lake was reached the Twins were more than ever convinced that B.J. was more than ever out of his head; for, instead of the smooth mirror they had been accustomed to gliding over in the boat, they found that the ice was covered with an inch of slush and water.
The sky above was not promising and blue, nor did the wind have a merry whizz; but it laughed like a maniac, and shrieked and threatened them, warning them to go back home or take most dreadful consequences.
B.J., however, would not listen to the advice they tendered him, but went busily about getting the sails up and preparing the boat for the voyage.