CHAPTER IX.

THE TOUR BEGINS.

“I wonder if they will attempt to fight?” asked Harry, as he swept on beside Jack.

“I hardly think so,” was the reply. “But if they do, we are five to three.”

“I own dat Len Spencer a lickin’,” put in Pickles. “He won’t dare say one word to dis child or he dun cotch it, suah.”

“Don’t start a fight,” warned Jack, earnestly. “We have the law on our side, and that’s enough.”

By this time half the distance toward the _Icicle_ had been covered. During this interval those on board the iceboat had managed to swing about the main sheet. It was now filling, and the craft was beginning to draw slowly away from them.

“Stop there!” shouted Jack, at the top of his lungs, and the others joined in the cry.

“Good-by!” shouted Sully, derisively. “Hope you enjoy skating!”

“We’ll have you locked up if you don’t stop!” yelled Boxy. “That is our property you are running off with!”

“Rats!” returned Sully, but he and his companions were not a little disturbed by Boxy’s plain statement of facts.

“We must put on more steam!” urged Harry. “If they once catch the wind fairly they will give us a nice chase across to the Lights.”

“Never mind, we’ll catch them on the next tack!” said Andy.

Nevertheless, the five boys put on a burst of speed which brought them to within a couple of hundred feet of the _Icicle_.

“They are going to tack back!” cried Harry. “Now if we try----”

“They are going to turn round and sail right with the wind!” burst in Jack. “Hurry up, or we’ll lose them and have to follow them to Rudskill, and goodness only knows how much farther!”

Jack was right. Sully had given the order, and all hands on the Icicle were aiding in turning her bow up the river.

The clumsy craft swung around in the wind while they were still just out of reach. Then the mainsail again caught the breeze, and off moved the iceboat at a livelier speed than ever.

“We’re beaten!” gasped Andy.

“No, we are not!” shouted Jack. “Come on, fellows! They have got to steer to the right to avoid that open flow over there!”

Away he went, with Harry, Boxy and Pickles at his heels. Andy could not keep up the pace, and dropped a little behind.

Harry felt as if he was once more in the five-mile race, and put forth every ounce of muscle that was in his sturdy limbs. Gradually he drew ahead of his companions and closer to the iceboat.

Those on the _Icicle_ saw him gaining on them, and endeavored to increase their speed. But it was of no avail, the wind subsiding just a trifle when most needed by them.

In another half-minute Harry was alongside of the iceboat. He attempted to jump on board, but Sully sprang at him and pushed him off.

“Keep away, or I’ll crack you in the head!” shouted the bully of Rudskill, roughly.

“This is our iceboat, and I am bound to get on board!” returned Harry. “Don’t you dare to touch me again, or you’ll get the worst of it.”

Once more he skated up and caught hold. Sully again tried to push him back. Harry grabbed his arm, and an instant later the bully went sliding down on his back on the hard ice.

“Oh! oh! my back!” howled Sully, in combined fright and pain.

“Serves him right!” returned Harry. “Come on, boys, I’ve got rid of one of them!” he shouted to his companions.

To avoid the open flow before mentioned, Dixon and Spencer were now tacking once more. This allowed Harry to reach the iceboat a third time, and now he sprang safely aboard.

“Lower the mainsail!” he cried, in a determined voice. “Do you hear, Dixon?”

“But--but----” stammered the bully’s toady.

“No buts about it; lower the sail, I tell you, unless you want to be pitched off after Sully!”

Seeing Sully’s fate, Dixon was thoroughly cowed, and he hastened to do as Harry had ordered. Hardly had the sail come down than Jack and the others swept up and boarded the _Icicle_ in a body.

“Don’t--don’t kill us!” cried Spencer, who was even a worse coward than Dixon.

“Yo’ is a fine fellah to run off wid other folkeses property!” put in Pickles. “I dun reckon Jack an’ de rest will send yo’ all to prison fo’ ten or twelve yeahs!”

“It wasn’t my--my fault!” whined Spencer. “Sully put up the job.”

“You get right off the boat!” commanded Jack. “And you, too, Dixon!”

“Here, in the middle of the river?” questioned the latter, anxiously.

“Yes, right here.”

“You don’t mean to leave us way out here, four miles from home, do you?” demanded Sully, as he limped up.

“Yes, leave them here,” put in Boxy. “They deserve it.”

“It won’t hurt them to walk home,” said Harry.

“Dat’s jess right,” added Pickles. “Let dem walk ebery step ub de way.”

He and the others sprang on board of the iceboat and began to hoist the mainsail. They had hardly done so when Sully rushed up and tried to hit Jack in the head with his fist.

Pickles sprang forward and pushed the bully’s arm aside. Then he let out with his own fist, and down went Sully flat on his back, while the _Icicle_ sailed off, leaving Dixon and Spencer staring at the fate of their leader in dumb amazement.

“That’s the time you did it, Pickles!” cried Boxy, approvingly. “My! just look how mad Sully is!”

They looked back and saw that the bully had arisen to his feet and was shaking his fist at them in rage. A moment later they swept around Thompson’s Bend, and the trio of defeated ones was lost to view.

“I owe you one for your aid, Pickles,” said Jack, with a kindly look at the colored boy, who grinned with pleasure. “I sha’n’t forget you.”

Pickles cleared his throat several times and looked down at the ice for a moment in silence. The boys saw at once that something was on his mind.

“Say, why can’t yo’ fellahs take me along!” he burst out suddenly. “Ebery fust-class camp hab got to hab a cook an’ general util’ty man around, pap sez, an’ he sez I kin go along if youse will hab me. I don’t want no pay fo’ gwine along, an’ I’ll do wot I kin to help fill up de larder. I ain’t much wid a gun, but I kin trap t’ings, and yo’ all knows wot I kin do fishin’ an’ spearin’. It an’t fo’ de likes of yo’ to wash de dishes and sech, an’--an’, to tell de truf, I wants to go powerful bad!”

And Pickles’ big, round eyes told very plainly that he spoke the truth. He had had that suggestion on his mind a long while, but he had hesitated to speak for fear of being refused.

The boys looked at each other. They had not thought to include any one but themselves in the proposed outing. But it would be a shame to disappoint Pickles, who had always stood by them and done them more than one favor.

“An’ I kin take my banjo and mouf harmonica along,” went on the colored youth. “Da will come in mighty handy-like to help kill de long evenings.”

“That’s so,” said Boxy. “And you can give me those lessons you promised me.”

“And you can show me how to build those traps you spoke about,” added Harry.

“Yes, I want to learn how to trap, too,” put in Andy.

“I guess you can go, Pickles,” finished up Jack, and it was settled that the colored youth should become one of the party.

Pickles was so delighted that he could hardly contain himself. As soon as Rudskill was reached he ran off to tell his folks and prepare for the trip. He was gone but a short half-hour, and came back with a spear on his shoulder and an old army knapsack strapped on his back.

The sled was brought out and tied on behind the _Icicle_, and then, without further delay, the long-talked-of tour was begun.

“We have lost about two hours,” said Jack. “But as the breeze is stronger than ever, perhaps we can make up the lost time before nightfall.”

The wind was indeed stronger, and soon Rudskill and the surrounding settlement was left far behind.

Now that the _Icicle_ had been recovered and they were at last on the way, all of the boys felt in high spirits. Boxy began to whistle merrily, and soon after Pickles broke out into a comic negro ditty that set them all to roaring.

It was after one o’clock when Hammerstone was reached. It being an hour later than they had anticipated, it was decided that they should procure a lunch to eat on the iceboat instead of stopping off for a meal. Jack procured the stuff--sandwiches and a big mince pie--and soon they were on the way to Rudd’s Landing, their stopping place for the night.

By four o’clock Jack calculated that they had traveled three-quarters of the distance from Rudskill.

“And if the wind holds out, we’ll be in Rudd’s Landing by seven or half-past,” he said.

By five o’clock it began to grow both darker and colder. A little later the wind died down somewhat, although it still blew sufficiently strong to keep them spinning on their course.

“Gosh! a cup of coffee wouldn’t go bad!” exclaimed Andy, who was taking it easy beside Harry, in the stern. “I’m pretty well chilled.”

“It won’t be long before we’re there, now,” replied his brother. “You can see the lights away ahead of us.”

On they went through the semi-darkness, for another half mile. They were now approaching a spot where a side creek of considerable dimensions flowed into the river.

Suddenly Pickles, who was in the bow on watch, uttered a cry of terror.

“Turn de boat around!” he screamed. “We is runin’ into de open watah!”

The others sprang up and gazed ahead. It was true; the _Icicle_ was making directly for a wide opening in the ice, scarcely a hundred yards ahead!