"I never went in much for athletics," said Staples. "I don't care much for exertion myself," answered Brown. "I come up here every winter for some ice-yachting. That's my idea of sport. I own one of the fastest ice-boats on the bay. Ever been out?" "No, I haven't. I've seen them at it a good deal. Pretty cold work such weather as we've been having, isn't it?" "I don't think so. Better come out with me tomorrow?" "Well, I don't care if I do." The next day and the next they spun around the bay on the ice-boat. Even Staples, who seemed to be tired of almost everything, liked the swiftness and exhilaration of the iceboat. One afternoon, Brown walked into the bar of the hotel, where he found Staples standing. "See here, Armstrong." he cried, slapping that gentleman on the shoulder. "Are you in for a bit of sport? It's a nice moonlight night, and I'm going to take a spin down to Hamilton to meet some chaps, and we can come back on the iceboat, or if you think it too late, you can stay over, and come back on the train." "Hamilton? That's up the lake, isn't it?" "Yes, just a nice run from here. Come along--I counted on you." An hour later they were skimming along the frozen surface of the lake. "Make yourself warm and snug," said Brown. "That's what the buffalo robes are for. I must steer, so I have to keep in the open. If I were you I'd wrap up in those robes and go to sleep. I'll wake you when we're there." "All right," answered Staples. "That's not a bad idea." "General George Washington!" said young Brown to himself. "This is too soft a snap altogether. I'm going to run him across the lake like a lamb. Before he opens his eyes we'll have skimmed across the frozen lake, and he'll find himself in the States again when he wakes up. The only thing now to avoid are the air-holes and ice-hills, and I'm all right." He had been over the course before and knew pretty well what was ahead of him. The wind was blowing stiffly straight up the lake and the boat silently, and swifter than the fastest express, was flying from Canada and lessening the distance to the American shore. "How are you getting along, Walker," cried Staples, rousing himself up. "First rate," answered Brown. "We'll soon be there, Staples." That unfortunate slip of the tongue almost cost young Mr. Brown his life. He had been, thinking of the man under his own name, and the name had come out unconsciously. He did not even notice it himself in time to prepare, and the next instant the thief flung himself upon him and jammed his head against the iron rod that guided the rudder, with such a force that the rudder stayed in its place and the boat flew along the ice without a swerve. "You scoundrel!" roared the bank-robber. "That's your game, is it? By the gods, I'll teach you a lesson in the detective business!"