“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 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.  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.