Jack and Fred, and also Dutchy Van Syckel and Reddy Schreiner, neighbors
of ours. It was the custom at the first of December every year to drain
out most of the water in the canal, in order to prevent possible injury to
the canal banks from the pressure of the ice. But there was always a foot
or two of water covering the bottom of the canal, and this afforded a fine
skating park of ample width and unlimited length, while the high canal
banks on each side protected us from the bitter wind that was blowing.
Toward noon, however, the wind shifted and swept at a terrific rate down
the narrow lane between the canal banks. We could scarcely make headway
against the blow. It was too much for Bill, who wasn't as used to skating
as we were. He sat down in a sheltered nook and commenced to think. When
Bill sat down to think it always meant that something was going to happen,
as we soon learned.

"Say, Jim," said he to me, "have you got any canvas up at the house?"

"No," I replied. "What do you want it for?"

"I want to rig up a skate sail. If you have an old sheet, that will do
just as well."

"Well, I guess I can find you an old sheet. Do you think you can make
one?"

"Sure thing," answered Bill, and off we went to the house, where I
received my first lesson on the practical genius of my chum.


[Illustration: Fig. 3. Laying Out the Sail.]