“All right—we’ll call the race off,” agreed Bert. Flossie and Freddie were a little startled by the closeness of the ice-boat, and they skated back to join their brother and sister.
And while they are taking a little rest on the ice I shall have a chance to let my new readers know something of the past history of the children about whom I am writing.
There were two pairs of Bobbsey twins. They were the children of Mr. Richard Bobbsey and his wife Mary, and the family lived in an Eastern city called Lakeport, which was at the head of Lake Metoka. Mr. Bobbsey was in the lumber business, having a yard and docks on the shore of the lake about a quarter of a mile from his house.
The older Bobbsey twins were Nan and Bert. They had dark hair and eyes, and were rather tall and slim. Flossie and Freddie, the younger twins, were short and fat, with light hair and blue eyes. So it would have been easy to tell the twins apart, even if one pair had not been older than the other. Besides the children and their parents there were in the “family” two other persons—Dinah Johnson, the fat, good-natured colored cook, and Sam, her husband, who looked after the furnace in the Winter and cut the grass in Summer.
Then there was Snoop, and Snap. The first was a fine black cat and the second a big dog, both great pets of the children. Those of you who have read the first book of this series, entitled “The Bobbsey Twins,” do not need to read this explanation here, but others may care to. In the second volume I told you of the fun the twins had in the country. After that they went to the seashore, and this subject has a book all to itself, telling of the adventures there.
Later on the Bobbseys went back to school, where they had plenty of fun, and when they were at Snow Lodge there were some strange happenings, as there were also on the houseboat Bluebird. There was a stowaway boy—but there! I had better let you read the book for yourself.
The Bobbsey twins spent some time at Meadow Brook, but there was always a question whether they had better times there or “At Home,” which is the name of the book just before this one.
You, who have read that book, will remember that Flossie and Freddie found, in a big snow storm, the lost father of Tommy Todd, a boy who lived with his grandmother in a poor section of Lakeport. And it was still that same Winter, after Tommy’s father had come home, that we find the Bobbsey twins skating on the ice, having just missed being run into by the ice-boat.
“My! but that was a narrow escape!” exclaimed Nan, as she skated slowly about. “My heart is beating fast yet.”
“So’s mine,” added Flossie. “Did he do it on purpose?”
“No, indeed!” exclaimed Bert. “I guess Mr. Watson wouldn’t do a thing like that! He was looking after the ropes of the sail, or doing something to the steering rudder, and that’s why he didn’t see you and Freddie.”
“What makes an ice-boat go?” asked Freddie.
“The wind blows it, just as the wind blows a sailboat,” explained Bert, looking down the lake after the ice-boat.
“But it hasn’t any cabin to it like a real boat,” went on Freddie. “And it doesn’t go in the water. Where do the people sit?”
“An ice-boat is like this,” said Bert, and with the sharp heel end of his skate he drew a picture on the ice. “You take two long pieces of wood, and fasten them together like a cross—almost the same as when you start to make a kite,” he went on. “On each end of the short cross there are double runners, like skates, only bigger. And at the end of the long stick, at the back, is another runner, and this moves, and has a handle to it like the rudder on a boat. They steer the ice-boat with this handle.
“And where the two big sticks cross they put up the tall mast and make the sail fast to that. Then when the wind blows it sends the ice-boat over the ice as fast as anything.”
“It sure does go fast,” said Tommy Todd. “Look! He’s almost at the end of the lake now.”
“Yes, an ice-boat goes almost as fast as the wind,” said Bert. “Maybe some day—”
“Oh, come on!” cried Flossie. “I want to go home! I’m cold standing here.”
“Yes, we had better go on,” said Nan. “I’m all right now.”
As the five children skated off, no longer thinking of the race, Nan asked Bert:
“What are you going to do some day?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t got it all thought out yet. I’ll tell you after a bit.”
“Is it a secret?” asked Nan, eagerly.
“Sort of.”
“Oh, please tell me!”
“Not now. Come on, skate faster!”
Bert and Nan skated on ahead, knowing that Flossie and Freddie would try to keep up with them, and so would get home more quickly. But they did not leave the smaller twins too far behind.
A little later the Bobbseys were safe at home. Tommy Todd went to his grandmother’s house, and Flossie and Freddie took turns giving their mother an account of their escape from the ice-boat.
“Was there really any danger?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey of Bert.
“Well, maybe, just a little. But I guess Mr. Watson would have stopped in time. He’s a good ice-boat sailor.”
“But don’t let Flossie and Freddie get so far away from you another time. They might have been hurt.”
Bert promised to look well after his little sister and brother, and then, having asked his mother if she wanted anything from the store, he said he was going down to his father’s lumberyard.
“What for?” asked Nan, as she saw him leaving. “Is it about the secret?”
“Partly,” answered Bert with a laugh.
Two or three days later the Bobbseys were again out skating on the ice, Nan and Bert keeping close to Freddie and Flossie. They had not been long gliding about when Freddie suddenly called:
“Oh, here comes that ice-boat again!”
“Surely enough, it is!” added Nan. “Oh, we must skate toward shore! Come on!”
“No need to do that,” replied Bert. “It isn’t coming fast, and Mr. Watson sees us.”
“He’s waving his hand at us!” cried Flossie. “I guess he wants to give us a ride. Come on, Freddie!”
“Here! Wait a minute!” called Bert “Don’t get into any more danger. But I believe he is going to stop,” he went on, as the ice-boat came slowly up to them. Then, as it swung up into the wind, with the sail loosely flapping, Mr. Watson called:
“Come on, children, don’t you want to go for a ride?”
“Oh, let’s!” cried Flossie, clapping her hands.
“And I want to steer!” added Freddie.
“No, you can’t do that!” exclaimed Nan. “Oh, Bert, do you think it would be all right for us to go?” she asked her older brother.
“I don’t see why not,” said Bert. “The wind doesn’t blow hard, and Mr. Watson knows all about ice-boats. I say let’s go!”
“Oh, what fun!” cried Flossie and Freddie.
They took off their skates and walked toward the ice-boat. Mr. Watson smiled at them.
“I’m so sorry I nearly ran into you the other day,” he said. “I did not see you until almost the last minute. So I made up my mind the next time I saw you on the lake I’d give you a ride. Come on, now, get aboard!”
“He talks just as if it was a real boat!” laughed Flossie, for, living near the lake as they did, and often seeing boats at their father’s lumber dock, the Bobbsey twins knew something about water craft.
“Well, of course, this isn’t as big as some boats,” said Mr. Watson, “but it will hold all of us, I think.”
The children saw where there was a sort of platform, with raised sides, built on the center of the crossed sticks, and on this platform were spread some fur rugs and blankets.
Mr. Watson saw to it that the little children, especially, were well wrapped, and then, telling them all to hold on, he let out the sail and away flew the ice-boat down the frozen lake, fairly whizzing along.
“My! how fa-fa-fast we go!” gasped Nan, for really the wind seemed to take away h
er breath.
“This sure is sailing!” cried Bert, and then Nan noticed that her brother was looking at different parts of the ice-boat, as if to find out how it was made.
Flossie and Freddie were having lots of fun holding on to one another, and also to the sides of the ice-boat, for the craft slid this way and that so quickly, sometimes seeming to rise up in the air, that it was like being on the back of a horse.
But the Bobbseys liked it, and the ride in the ice-boat came to an end all too soon. With sparkling eyes, and red, glowing cheeks, the twins got out close to their father’s lumber dock, calling their thanks to Mr. Watson.
“I’ll take you again, some time,” he answered, as he sailed off down the lake.
“Ah, ha! And so my little fat fireman had a ride in an ice-boat, did he?” cried Mr. Bobbsey that night, when he came home from the office and heard the story. “And how did my little fat fairy like it?” And he lifted up first Freddie and then Flossie to kiss them. “Fat fireman” and “fat fairy” were Mr. Bobbsey’s pet names for the smaller twins. Bert and Nan had had pet names when they were small, but they were too large for them now, growing out of them as they grew out of their clothes.
“Oh, it was glorious!” cried Nan. “Sailing in an ice-boat must be like the way it feels to be in an airship.”
“I’m going up in an airship when I get big!” cried Freddie, making a dive after Snoop, the cat, who was hiding under the table.
“Have you heard yet whether you are to go?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey, of her husband, when the noisy greetings to the children were over.
“No, not yet,” he answered, and he made a motion with his head, as if to tell his wife not to speak of a certain matter before the children.
“Oh, I saw you wink!” cried Nan, clapping her hands. “What does it mean? Is it a secret, Momsey?”
“Well, yes, Nan. You shall be told in plenty of time, if anything comes of it.”
“Oh, that’s two secrets!” cried Nan. “Bert has one and now there’s one here.”
“What is Bert’s secret?” asked Nan’s mother.
“I don’t know yet; he won’t tell me.”
“Yes, I’ll tell you to-morrow,” said her brother. “But what’s this about Father going away, Mother? Are we going too?”
“Supper am ready, chilluns!” exclaimed the voice of Dinah, the cook, and that ended the talk about secrets for the time being.
“But when are you going to tell me yours?” Nan managed to whisper to her brother when the dessert was being served.
“Come down to the lumberyard to-morrow afternoon,” he whispered. “It’s almost done.”
Without telling Flossie or Freddie anything about it, Nan slipped off by herself the next afternoon, and from the watchman in her father’s lumberyard learned that Bert and another boy were in one of the sheds. As Nan came closer she could hear the noise of hammering and sawing.
“Oh, Bert, what are you making?” cried Nan, as she saw her brother and Tommy Todd busy with sticks, boards, hammer and nails.
“This is the Bird!” cried Bert, waving a hammer at something that, so far, did not look like much of anything.
“A bird?” cried Nan. “It looks more like a scare-crow!”
“Just wait until it’s finished!” said Tommy Todd. “When we get the sail on—”
“Oh, Bert! is it a boat?” cried Nan eagerly.
“Yes, it’s going to be an ice-boat, and I’ve called it the Bird,” was the answer. “I got the idea of building it after I’d seen Mr. Watson’s. Father said I might, and he gave me the lumber, and let me have a carpenter to help, for Tommy and I couldn’t do it all. But now the ice-boat is almost done and in a few days I’ll sail it.”
“And may I have a ride?” asked Nan.
“Of course. I’ll take the whole family,” said Bert. “Just you wait,” and then he and Tommy went on hammering and sawing.
CHAPTER III
A Runaway
“All aboard!”
“Don’t forget your baggage!”
“This way for your tickets!”
“The ice-boat Bird makes no stops this side of the lake! All aboard!”
Bert Bobbsey and Tommy Todd thus were calling at the end of one of the lumberyard docks one day about a week after Nan had seen her brother building the ice-boat. Coming down the dock were Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey, with Nan, Flossie and Freddie. Snap, the big dog, was bounding on ahead through the snow, barking joyously. He enjoyed fun as much as any one.
“All aboard! Please hurry up!” cried Bert.
“Why, I thought this was a special trip you were giving us, and we didn’t have to hurry,” laughed his mother.
“It is,” Bert said. “But you see you can’t sail an ice-boat if you haven’t any wind, and I want you to have a ride before the wind dies away, as it might. So come on, get on board!”
“I want to steer!” cried Freddie.
“No, you must not,” said Nan.
“Yes, I must. I know how to steer a motor boat, and I can steer an ice-boat, I guess,” and Freddie was very sure about it.
“After a while, maybe,” agreed Bert. “But an ice-boat is different to steer from a motor boat. I’ll show you how, though.”
Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey got on the little platform which Bert had built as a sort of open cabin. It had old carpets and rugs on it, and there were blankets and robes to keep the passengers warm. After some failures Bert and Tommy had finally managed to finish the ice-boat. It was not as easy to build as they had expected, but Mr. Bobbsey’s carpenter had helped them.
The boat had been tried out on the ice, and had sailed well. Mr. Bobbsey had Mr. Watson look at it, and that gentleman had said it was safe to ride in. Then Bert had finally gotten his father and mother to promise to take a trip in the boat, bringing Nan, Flossie and Freddie with them. Mr. Bobbsey had, before this, been given a ride with Bert and Tommy, so he knew the two boys could manage the boat fairly well. Tommy and Bert had had several rides by themselves. Now they had company.
“Are you all ready?” asked Bert, after he had seen his father and mother, his sisters and brother, get on board the Bird.
“All ready,” answered Mr. Bobbsey. “Don’t go too fast at first, and take your mother’s breath away.”
“I won’t!” promised Bert. “Are those two little ones covered up all right?” he asked, nodding toward Flossie and Freddie.
“Yep! We’re as warm as—as popcorn!” cried Flossie.
“With butter on!” added Freddie.
“Well, you certainly ought to be good and warm,” laughed Mrs. Bobbsey, as she tucked the robes closer around the two smaller twins.
“All aboard!” called Bert, and then, moving slowly at first, the ice-boat glided away from the lumber wharf, skimming over the lake with the entire Bobbsey family, not counting, of course, fat Dinah and her husband, who stayed at home. Nor was Snoop, the black cat, along. Snap, the dog, ran a little way, but when he found the ice-boat was going too fast for him, and when he noticed that he was slipping too much, he gave a sort of good-bye howl and went slowly back to shore.
“Isn’t this great?” cried Bert, as he steered the ice-boat out into the middle of the lake.
“Wonderful!” cried Nan, her hair flying in the wind and her cheeks almost as red as roses. “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 t
han 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. On the other side of the lake were other ice-boats, and Bert wished he could have a race with some of them. But he knew his mother would not like that now.
“Can’t you make it go a little slower?” asked Flossie, after a bit. “Every time I open my mouth it gets filled with cold air, and it makes me want to sneeze.”
“I can’t go any slower than the wind blows,” answered Bert. “Turn your back to the bow, or front end of the boat, and you can open your mouth easier then.”
Flossie did as she was told and felt better. Meanwhile the Bird was living up to her name, and skimming along swiftly. Bert held to the steering handle, now and then tightening or loosening the rope that was fast to the sail.
“Want any help?” asked his father.
“No, thank you, Dad. I want to manage it all by myself as long as I can.”
“Isn’t it my turn to steer?” asked Freddie, when they were half-way down the lake, toward the end farthest from the town, where there were deep woods on either side.
“No, not yet!” exclaimed Bert “Don’t touch anything, Freddie!” he went on, for his little brother was reaching out toward the sail. “I’ll have to wait until the wind doesn’t blow so strong before I can let your steer, Freddie.”
“But I want to steer when we’re going fast!” cried the little fellow. “I know how to do it. You just—”
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