Copper Coleson's Ghost

by Edward P. Hendrick

  CHAPTER IV THE RACE

  The winter, which dealt so severely with the great melancholy housestanding lonely on the shore of Lake Erie, was proving a very cheerfulseason for the lads of Truesdell. Dick Somers, by reason of his naturalaptitude for making friends, had quickly found a place in high schoolactivities. A certain proficiency with the tenor-banjo had won himmembership in a jazzy school orchestra, in which organization were someof his closest friends, including Ned Blake, Jim Tapley, Wat Sanford,Dave Wilbur and, jazziest of all, Charlie Rogers, who, in the words ofTommy Beals, “sure did wail a mean saxophone.”

  Cold weather had set in much earlier than usual, and before school hadclosed for the Christmas holidays, the lake was frozen for a width oftwo miles along its southern shore. Skates were hastily resurrected fromdusty attic nooks and exciting games of hockey were of daily occurrence.As the strip of ice increased in width, a few ice-boats made theirappearance, skimming along shore like great white gulls.

  “When are you going to get out the old _Frost King_, Ned?” asked TommyBeals, as he leaned on his hockey stick to watch the speeding boats.

  “We’ll have her out the minute the ice gets strong enough,” declaredNed, “but you know she weighs a lot more than any of those boats you’relooking at.”

  “Have you got an ice-boat, Ned?” asked Dick, eagerly.

  “I’ll say he has,” boasted Tommy, “about the fastest one on the lake,too. We keep it stored in my barn. Come on, Ned,” he continuedcoaxingly, “it’s getting colder every minute and by tomorrow the icewill be six inches thick, _easy_. Let’s get the boat out so’s to beready.”

  “All right, Fatty,” replied Ned, “get some of the crowd to help andwe’ll start now.”

  As most of my readers know, an ice-yacht is built of two timbers orheavy planks arranged in the form of a big letter T. A steel-shod shoe,not unlike a big wooden skate or sled-runner, is bolted firmly to eachend of the cross-plank; while a similar shoe, equipped with an iron postand tiller, supports the stern and acts as a rudder. The _Frost King_was a powerful boat, carrying a huge main-sail and also a big jib whichwas rigged on a long bowsprit that projected far forward.

  All the remainder of the day and until noon of the next, the boys werehard at work hauling the boat from her storage in the Beals barn andgetting her ready for the ice. Charlie Rogers, Jim Tapley and WatSanford had responded to Tommy’s call for assistance, and Dave Wilburgot around in time to help in hoisting the heavy mast and setting up thewire rigging that held it in place.

  “Gee, fellows!” chattered Dick Somers, as he threshed his arms torestore the circulation in fingers benumbed by his rather clumsyattempts at handling the frozen rigging. “I guess a Hottentot knows moreabout an ice-boat than I do! I can’t make head nor tail of this tangleof rope!”

  In spite of inexperience, however, Dick did his level best,disentangling the stiffened ropes and pulling and hauling on hoist orclew-line with unfailing good nature. Over all, Ned Blake kept awatchful eye, setting up and testing each bolt and stay, mindful of hisresponsibility for the safety of both boat and crew. At last all wasready and with a steady breeze filling her sails, the _Frost King_ shotout from the shelter of the docks and went careening along shore at aspeed that few of her competitors could equal.

  “_Zowie!_” gasped Dick as the boat at length rounded into the wind andstopped. “This thing must have been going a mile a minute!”

  “Easily that much,” laughed Ned. “She’ll do better than that in a stiffbreeze.”

  At almost any time during the week of Christmas vacation, the _FrostKing_ might have been seen skimming swiftly over the ice with as manyboys on board as she could carry. To Dick Somers, this novel sport was asource of never-ending delight, and seldom did the ice-boat leave portwithout including him among her crew.

  One afternoon as Ned, Tommy, and Dick stepped from the boat after anexciting spin, they saw a man emerge from the shelter of a lumber pileon the dock and come toward them. He was muffled in a heavy fur coat,and a cap of the same material, pulled low upon his forehead,effectively concealed his features. In one gloved hand he carried a bigvalise, which, from the way he handled it, was evidently of considerableweight.

  “I want to get to Cleveland as quick as I can,” announced the strangerin a voice which was muffled to a harsh growl by the thickness of hisfur collar.

  “There’s a train leaving in half an hour,” replied Ned, with a glance athis watch. “The station is only a few steps beyond the dock.”

  The stranger shook his head. “That’s a slow local,” he said impatiently.“It’s the Detroit express I want, but it doesn’t stop here and theywon’t flag it for me. I’ll give you ten dollars if you’ll run me up toCleveland, so I can board it there.”

  “It’s all of fifty miles to Cleveland and it’s four o’clock now,”objected Tommy Beals.

  The man shot a quick glance back toward the station where the engine ofthe despised local was blowing off steam in a tempest of sound. “Yes,it’s fifty miles,” he growled. “I’ll pay you twenty-five dollars, if youget me there ahead of the express.”

  “Can we do it?” asked Dick, a bit doubtfully. “How about it, Ned?”

  “We might,” replied Ned, and then added with native caution, “but I’dwant to see the money before we start.”

  With an impatient grunt, the stranger plunged a hand beneath his coatand brought forth a roll of paper money, from which he selected twobills.

  “Here’s fifteen dollars!” he exclaimed. “I’ll pay you the other ten ifyou land me at Cleveland station ahead of the express.”

  With a nod of agreement Ned pocketed the money, and at his command theice-boat was swung around till her long bowsprit pointed westward. Thepassenger took his place forward, where he lay flat, grasping the footof the mast. The big valise he handled with care, holding it tightly inthe crook of his free arm.

  “There goes the express!” cried Dick as, with a shriek of its whistle,the big locomotive tore past Truesdell station with unabated speed androared away down the line, dragging a long line of swaying coaches inits wake.

  Rather slowly at first, the _Frost King_ nosed its way out from thepartial shelter of the docks and headed out upon the frozen lake. Shewas half a mile from shore before the full force of the wind struck herand then, with a sharp crunch of her keen runners, the big craft shotforward in pursuit of the already vanished express.

  For the first few miles the ice was almost perfectly smooth, and toDick’s excited senses it seemed as if the boat were actually flyingthrough space, so steady was her bullet-like speed. Soon he caught sightof the train far ahead. It disappeared behind a wooded point, and when afew minutes later it had reappeared, they were running almost abreast ofthe rear coach. Car by car the flying ice-boat overhauled the fastexpress, till it ran neck and neck with the locomotive and a momentlater had poked its long bowsprit into a clear lead. A flutter of whitefrom the window of the cab told that the engine crew also watched therace with keen interest.

  “We’ve got ’em licked!” screamed Dick as he waved back frantically; butat that instant Ned shoved the tiller hard down. The _Frost King_ slewedinto the wind with her canvas slatting furiously and came to a quickstop.

  “What the blazes!” yelped Dick, bouncing up from his place and staringabout him in astonishment. “What’s the idea?”

  The passenger likewise straightened up and demanded the reason for thesudden stop.

  “There’s a big crack ahead,” explained Ned briefly, and leaping from theboat, he ran forward to investigate.

  Large bodies of water, such as Lake Erie, do not freeze with uniformsmoothness as do small ponds. At intervals over their frozen surfacesgreat cracks form, which the varying winds cause to open and close witha force sufficient to tilt the ice along their borders at a sharp angle.It was one of these open cracks dead ahead that had caught Ned’swatchful eye.

  “‘WE’VE GOT ‘EM LICKED!
’ SCREAMED DICK”]

  “It’s ten feet wide if it’s an inch,” grumbled Tommy, as he stood at theedge of the lane of black water that stretched far to right and left oftheir course. “Can you jump it, Ned?”

  “Not with the load we’re carrying,” was the decided answer. “We’ll haveto look for a better place.”

  Hurrying back to the boat, they skirted the crack for a mile, coming atlast to a spot where a great cake of ice on the near side of the openinglay tilted at an angle that afforded a good take-off for the jump.

  “Here’s the only possible chance I can see to make it,” observed Ned,after a quick survey of the situation. Then addressing the stranger herapidly stated the case. “This crack right where we are is almost sixfeet wide,” he explained. “There’s a fair chance that we can jump it,but I’ll admit it’s none too easy a stunt. Do you want to risk it?”

  “Sure,” growled the man in the fur coat. “Go ahead.”

  Without another word, Ned tacked quickly to starboard, swung in a widecircle and headed directly for the crack, driving the _Frost King_ tothe very limit of her speed.

  “Here we go!” yelled Tommy. “Hold _everything_!” And at that instant thebig boat struck the tilted ice-cake, fairly leaped into the air, and asecond later landed with a splintering crash on the farther side of thecrack.

  “Zowie!” yelped Dick. “That loosened every tooth in my head!”

  “We’re lucky it didn’t take the mast out of her,” answered Ned. “Nowkeep a sharp lookout ahead. I’m going to _drive_ her.”

  For the next twenty miles the _Frost King_ tore along at a speed thatalmost forced the breath from the bodies of her crew. The wind wasincreasing in strength, and in some of the sharper gusts it would liftthe windward shoe clear off the ice, dropping it again with a jolt thatcaused the mast to sway and buckle dangerously.

  “It’s up to you to stop that, Fatty,” shouted Ned and, obedient toorders, Tommy Beals crept out along the cross-plank till his ampleweight reposed at the extreme outer end, where he held tightly to thewire shrouds.

  With this extra ballast to windward, the boat held to the ice muchbetter and showed a considerable increase in speed, such that very soonDick pointed to a white plume of steam which showed against the darkstretch of woodland far ahead.

  “She’s blowing for some crossing,” shouted Ned, above the whistle of thewind. “We’re picking up on her but she’s got a big lead.”

  The early winter twilight soon closed down, making it difficult todistinguish objects a hundred yards ahead. The green and red lights of arailroad switch-tower swept past, and a moment later Dick sighted therear lights of the train. At the same moment a second plume of steamappeared and the faint scream of a distant whistle reached their ears.Foot by foot the lead was cut down till once again the _Frost King_ ranneck and neck with the big locomotive. A bobbing red lantern salutedthem from the window of the cab and then, as the express slackened inthe outlying suburbs of the city, the ice-boat shot ahead and in a fewminutes was rounding the breakwater that protects Cleveland’swaterfront.

  “Here we are!” announced Ned, as he brought the boat into the wind.“We’ve beat the express by five minutes.”

  The man in the fur coat rose stiffly from his place beside the mast.“All right,” he replied gruffly. “Here’s your money,” and peeling aten-dollar bill from his roll, he handed it to Ned and hurried awayacross the ice, holding the heavy valise beneath his arm.