"Wait until I get you up in the air," grunted Boreas, "I'll show you something then."
"You have been trying pretty hard all morning," answered Billy, "but you haven't shown me much yet."
My, my, my, how furious this made Boreas. He raged and tore around and above Billy and Fuzzy White, but they lay close to the ground, and though he gave them some pretty hard kicks, he could not budge them.
"If he keeps this up, he will tire himself out," laughed Fuzzy to Billy. "He's getting to be a pretty old man for such violent exercise, and the first thing he knows his wind will give out."
"I'd like to stand up though," said Billy, "I'm afraid I'll catch cold."
"Catch cold—" cried Boreas, stopping suddenly, "catch cold—why you couldn't catch anything."
"That's all you know about it," said Billy.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," panted Boreas, "I'll give you a start of a hundred ice floes and beat you down to that iceberg two miles away."
"Done," cried Billy, winking at Fuzzy—"but I'll be generous—I'll give you the start."
"What shall we bet," asked Boreas.