"He bore it like a Trojan," declared Jasper, wiping his forehead. "I
tell you, Dick's our hero, after this."

"Now I should like to know how all this happened," demanded Mr. King.
The old gentleman had remained at the parsonage to get a good morning
nap while the snow frolic was in progress. And he had been awakened by
the unusual bustle below stairs in time to hear the welcome news that
Dicky was all right since Dr. Fisher was taking care of him. He now
presented himself in his dressing-gown, with his sleeping cap awry, over
a face in which anger, distress and impatience strove for the mastery.
"Speak up, my boy," to Jasper, "and tell us what you know about it."

"Well, the first thing I knew of any danger ahead," said Jasper, "was
hearing Dick sing out 'Hold up!' I supposed the double ripper all right;
didn't you, Ben?"

"Yes," said Ben sturdily, "and it was all right; just exactly as we used
to make them, we boys; there wasn't a weak spot anywhere in her, sir."

"Who was steering?" demanded old Mr. King almost fiercely.

"I was," said Van, beginning boldly enough, to let his voice die out in
a tremulous effort.

"Humph--humph," responded Mr. King grimly. "A bad business," shaking his
head.

"Van would"--began Percy, but his eye meeting Polly's he added, "We'd
none of us done any better, I don't believe, sir, than Van."