"I don't see how you made it, Bert."
"Well, it wasn't easy. How do you like it, Freddie?"
"All right. When can I steer?"
"Oh, maybe after a while," said Bert, with a laugh. "Say, we're going
fast, all right."
"Yes," agreed Mr. Bobbsey. "I think the wind is getting stronger instead
of dying out, Bert."
"It does seem so. Well, all the better. We won't have to walk back if it
keeps on this way. We can sail to the end of the lake and ride back."
"Are you sure you can manage the boat yourself?" asked Bert's father, "She
seems pretty big."
"Oh, Tommy and I sailed her in a stronger wind than this. And we have a
heavier load on now, which makes it all the safer."
Mr. Bobbsey himself knew how to sail an ice-boat, but he wanted to let
Bert do as much alone as he could, for this is a good way for a boy to
learn, if there is not too much danger.
"And the worst that can happen," said Mr. Bobbsey, in a whisper to his
wife, "is that we may upset and spill out."
"Oh! But do you really think there is any danger of _that?_"
"Well, there may be. Ice-boats often upset, but we can't fall very far,"
and he looked down at the ice, which was only a few inches below them.
"And we have so many robes and blankets that falling would be like
tumbling into bed. There is no danger."
The wind was blowing harder and harder. It was sweeping right across the
lake and forcing the boat down. The steel runners clinked on the ice, now
and then scraping up a shower of icy splinters that sparkled in the sun.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34