“Let’s turn back now,” suggested Dick. “It must be getting toward half-past five, and you must remember that we won’t be able to make as fast time going down the river as we have coming up.” “All right, we’ll turn in a minute.” And then Carl, whose knowledge of ice-yachting was derived from the hurried perusal of a library book on the subject, cudgeled his brains to recollect how to “go about.” Of course, he might lower the sail and then bring her around, but that would be a most clumsy, unsportsmanlike method, and so not to be seriously considered. Presumably, the thing to do was to luff. “Stand by to luff!” he bawled. Dick and Trevor stared. “Stand!” cried Trevor indignantly. “Why, I can’t stand, you idiot. It’s all I can do to hold on as it is!” “Well, look out for the boom, then. I’m going to bring her about.” “Who?” asked Trevor innocently. But he got no answer, and the next instant he had forgotten his question, for Carl had thrust the helm hard over without first ascertaining that the sheet was clear. It wasn’t. The result was startling. The wind struck the sail full, and the yacht swung violently to port, tilted almost onto her beam ends. Carl and Trevor went rapidly through space and brought up on the ice yards and yards away, happily uninjured save for minor bruises and scratches, and The Sleet, righting herself, bounded forward with Dick clutching desperately, dazedly, at the port runner-beam. When the shock had come Dick, like the others, had been thrown from the cockpit, but, by good luck or bad, had encountered the end of the cross-timber, just over the runner, and had seized it and clung to it with no very clear idea as to what it was, and not greatly caring. And now, when he opened his eyes and gazed confusedly about, he found the yacht ringing merrily over the ice and, judging by the feeling, kicking up her heels in delight, and found himself wrapped convulsively about the beam with the wind whistling madly in his ears and blowing his hair helter-skelter, for in his flight through air his cap and he had parted company. He cast a look backward and thought that for an instant he could discern in the gathering darkness two figures. Near at hand the stays ran to the masthead, and he edged himself toward them until he could grasp one in his numbed fingers. Then he was able to gain the support of the mast, somewhat painfully, for he found that his shoulder ached horribly, and that his lip had been cut and was swelling to disconcerting size. By means of the boom, which was swinging agitatedly as though constantly meditating a veer to the other side, he reached the cockpit, and there, stretched once more at length, he studied the situation.