“Why, look here, John,” said the man, “doesn’t it stand to reason that the rudder of a boat ought to be in the stern? Now just answer me that, will you?”
“Well,” replied the boy, availing himself of the Yankee’s privilege of answering a question by asking another, “supposing you were making an ox-sled with a set of double runners, would you put the traverse runners behind, because you were going to steer with them?”
“That’s nothing to do with it,” replied the other; “of course I wouldn’t build an ox-sled as I would a sail-boat. But, let me tell you, I’ve seen these things before to-day. I was out in Iowa, one winter, and crossed the Mississippi in a sail-sled, a good deal like this, only she had the two stationary runners in front, and the single one behind. She was running as a ferry-boat, and she flew across the river like a bird. And then she’d mind her rudder just as quick as any boat you ever saw; you could whirl her right about in a moment.”
“So I can my boat,” replied the youth; “and as to that, I don’t believe it makes any difference whether the steering runner is in front or behind. Come, jump on, Mr. Grant, and you shall see for yourself,” added the young man, as he hoisted his sail.
“No, you’ll sail better with one than with two on board, with this wind,” replied the man.
“Well, Jessie, you’re light—I’ll take you, if you want to have a sail,” continued the young man.
“No, I thank you, I had rather stand here and see you sail,” replied Jessie.
“Yes, go, Jessie,” interposed Ronald; “I would, if he asked me.”
John did not take the hint, but setting his sail to the breeze, and giving his craft a push by means of a boat-hook, he started on his trip alone. There was a light wind, and the ice-boat, after a few minutes, got up a pretty good speed, sailing along very handsomely at the rate of four or five miles an hour, which is a little faster than a good walker usually travels. The young man frequently changed her course, and conclusively showed that the craft obeyed her rudder, if it was, as Mr. Grant asserted, in the wrong end of the boat.
As the sun was nearing the western horizon, Jessie and Ronald did not wait to see the return of the ice-boat, but started for home after it had disappeared behind the hills. They had not proceeded far, when they discovered, with astonishment and awe, that since they had passed securely over the road, but little more than an hour before, a fearful snow-slide had taken place at a particular point, burying up the highway for nearly a dozen rods, to the depth of twenty feet! The road at this place wound around the foot of a steep hill, upon the side of which the deep snow had become softened by the afternoon sun, and slipping from the grasp of its icy moorings, had swept down from the heights above in an avalanche which must have shaken the solid ground beneath. There was a farm-house just beyond, and Jessie and Ronald, as soon as their first surprise was over, began to feel serious apprehensions that it had been swept away in the rushing tide from the mountain. They accordingly scaled the immense pile of snow, which was as hard and compact as if it had been trodden down by the feet of an army, and hurried forward to ascertain the extent of the disaster. To their great relief, they found the house safe, but so near had the destructive avalanche come to it, that a shed attached to the barn was demolished and buried up, and a wagon standing in it was crushed to pieces. The family which occupied the house had not yet recovered from their alarm and excitement. At the time the slide occurred, the mother and her two children were alone in the house. Hearing an unusual noise, which jarred the building like an earthquake, she ran to the door, and saw the whole hill-side apparently sliding down into the road. Comprehending her danger at a glance, she seized her little girl with one hand, and her babe with the other, and fled from the house with all possible speed—all of them bareheaded, and with only such garments as they wore indoors. Fortunately, she soon met her husband, who at first thought his wife had suddenly become crazy; but after hearing her story, he took the little girl into his arms, and they went back to the house. When Jessie and Ronald got there, the man was trying very earnestly to convince his wife that there was no further danger, but she kept glancing anxiously at the snow on the hill behind the house, as if momentarily expecting to see it commence its destructive march. There was, however, really little danger, now, for such was the form of the hill above the house, that a slide would not be likely to occur there, unless in connection with an avalanche on the more precipitous part of the mountain.