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----"

Freddie never finished what he was saying. Whether he touched anything, or
whether Bert was afraid he would, and so pulled on the wrong rope to keep
it out of Freddie's way, was never known.

Suddenly the ice-boat gave a quick whirl to one side, like a boy or a girl
on roller skates going around a corner. It went around so quickly that it