We were now ready to commence operations with our instruments. The heliograph was set up on the ledge at the top of the cliff. First the disk was turned down, uncovering the point of the sighting rod. Then Bill sighted through the unsilvered spot in the mirror and shifted the rod up and down until the tip end came squarely in line with the door of our straw hut, where Jack was seated, notebook in hand, to take down our message. Reddy stood by him with his wigwag flag to answer back. When the instrument was properly sighted the shutter was set up directly in front of it and the sighting disk turned up to cover the point of the sighting rod. Then came the rather troublesome task of focusing the mirror. The mirror reflected a square panel of light, in the center of which there was a small shadow spot made by the unsilvered peep hole. The object was to get this shadow to fall on the center of the sighting disk. We knew that then the mirror would reflect the sunlight squarely on the straw hut. We found it quite easy to direct this shadow spot to the disk by holding a sheet of paper in front of the mirror six or eight inches away, and following up the spot on the paper until it reached the disk.

Heliograph Signaling.

When at last we succeeded in properly focusing the mirror Bill pressed the key down three times, sending three quick flashes to Jack as a signal that he was ready to begin. Reddy wigwagged back O. K., and then the first heliographic message was sent from the ledge to the island. It was a rather mixed-up
Fig. 160. Top View, showing position of Mirror and Shutter. message, and kept Jim and Reddy wigwagging back and forth very strenuously to straighten matters out. It was my duty to keep the mirror focused. As the sun moved across the sky the shadow spot would move off the disk, and I had to keep shifting the mirror to bring the spot back where it belonged. We used the International Telegraph Code, which we had been studying every evening for a week, but it was many weeks before we learned how to use it correctly, even slowly. The International Telegraph Code is as follows:

The three short flashes Bill sent represented the letter S, which stood for the word “signal.” A was formed by a short flash followed by a long flash; B by a long flash followed by three short ones, and so on. The key was held down three times as long for the long flash as for the short one. We found the best way of learning to send the signals properly was to count 1 for each short flash, and for each pause between parts of the letter, and 3 for each dash and for each pause between letters. Between words we counted 6. Thus, for the letter A the key would be down when we counted 1, up when we counted 2, down while we counted 3, 4, 5, and up while we counted 6, 7, 8, for the pause after each letter. It was rather a confusing code, I admit, but in time we mastered it, all but Reddy and Fred, who never would learn, but instead used the wigwag code, letting a short flash stand for 1, a long flash for 2 and a double long flash for 3.

The Double Mirror Instrument.

Our heliographing instrument did excellent service sending flashes from the cliff to the island, but we couldn’t make it work very well sending messages from the island to the cliff, because we had to face almost due north, and then the sun was nearly always at our backs and couldn’t shine squarely on the mirror. This led to our building a double mirrored heliograph the following summer. To begin with, we built an instrument which was the exact duplicate of our first heliograph; then, in addition, to fit in the socket of the sighting rod, we rigged up a second mirror, which was mounted in exactly the same way as the first. The second mirror was called the station mirror, and differed from the other, or sun
Fig. 161. The Double Mirror Instrument. mirror, in having a small patch of white paper pasted at the center instead of a peep hole. When using this instrument, we set it up so that the station mirror faced the ledge, then by sighting through the hole in the sun mirror at the reflection in the station mirror we could see just what was in focus. The station mirror had to be moved until the patch at its center hid the ledge from view. After that the sun mirror was shifted until the shadow spot fell on the white patch of the station mirror. When once the station mirror was focused, it could be clamped tightly in place by screwing up the trunnion and swivel nuts. But the sun mirror had to be constantly shifted to keep the shadow on the patch. Another way of focusing the mirrors was to stand behind the instrument with the head close to the station mirror, shift the
Fig. 162. Top View, showing position of the
Two Mirrors and the Screen. sun mirror until the entire station mirror was reflected in it, with the white patch squarely over the unsilvered spot; then still looking at the sun mirror, the station mirror was shifted until the reflection of the distant station was brought squarely in line with the unsilvered spot on the mirror. The station mirror was now firmly bolted and the sun mirror adjusted until the shadow spot fell on the paper patch.

CHAPTER XIV.
ICE BOATS, SLEDGES AND TOBOGGANS.

Consequently, on the first day of September we gathered up our belongings, corraled our chickens, packed our goods, and the next day started for home. Mr. Schreiner, in response to a letter from the secretary, came down with a large wagon in which the majority of the things were packed. The rest of our luggage was stowed in the scow and the canoes, and these were towed down the canal, as before. We reached home late in the afternoon, tired and hungry. It was a treat to sit at the table again and eat some of Mother’s appetizing dishes. And say, wasn’t that pie great, though! My, how ravenous we were! And then a soft, comfortable bed with spotless white sheets and pillow cases. How soundly we did sleep that night! You can just bet we were all glad enough to get back to civilization, though, of course, no one could have dragged out the confession from a single one of us.

The Ice Boat.

School commenced on the 20th of September that year, so we hadn’t much time to spare. Work was begun immediately on the ice boat. Our first ice boat was rather a crude one. A 2 by 4 inch scantling 14 feet long was used for the backbone of the boat. The scantling was
Fig. 163. The Backbone. placed on edge, and to lighten it and improve its appearance it was tapered fore and aft from a point 4 feet from the bow end. The thickness of the ends of the backbone was but 2 inches, as shown in Fig. 163. To the under edge of the backbone, 5 feet from the forward end, a crosspiece was nailed. This crosspiece was a 1-inch board 6 inches wide and 9 feet long. Braces were then
Fig. 164. Frame of the Ice Boat. run from the ends of the crosspiece to the forward and rear ends of the backbone, and at the rear end several boards nailed across the braces served as a seat for the boat.

Our next task was to rig up the runners. For these we used skates, which were so arranged that we could remove them whenever we wanted to. Three blocks of wood were used for the runner shoes. Two of
Fig. 165. Runner Shoe. them were cut from a 2 by 4 scantling and measured a foot in length. The third block was only 1 inch thick, but was otherwise of the same dimensions. The skates were laid face downward on the blocks with the clamping levers open; then we marked the places where the clamping jaws touched the wood and drilled holes at these points. The forward end of each block was also tapered off to fit flat against the face of the skate. Then by inserting the jaws
Fig. 166. The Rudder Shoe. in the holes and closing the levers, the skate was clamped to the block, just as it would be to a shoe. The two 2-inch blocks were bolted to the ends of the crosspiece, but the third block needed further attention, as it was to be used for the rudder or steering runner.

The rudder post was shaped from a block of hardwood 3 inches square and 10 inches long. Two inches from the lower end saw cuts were made in
Fig. 167. The Tiller. the side of the block to a depth of 3/4 inch. Then with a chisel the sides were split off, forming a large pin with a square shank 8 inches long. Next the corners of the shank were cut off, rounding it to a diameter of 1-1/2 inches. The runner block was fastened securely to the head of the rudder post with screws. A 1-1/2-inch hole was now drilled into the backbone at the stern end to receive the rudder post. A tiller was next cut out of a 1-inch board to the shape shown in Fig. 167. A slot was
Fig. 168. Drilling the Mast Step. cut in the end of the tiller, and the latter fitted snugly over the top of the post, where it was held in place by screws threaded in through the sides.

The mast of our boat was a pole 8 feet long, tapering from a diameter 2 inches at the base to 1-1/2 inches at the top. A step for the mast was cut from a 2 by 4 block 8 inches long. A 2-inch hole was drilled into the face of this block. We had no drill large enough to bore this hole, but accomplished the same result by drilling eight 1/2-inch holes inside of a 2-inch circle (Fig. 168), and then used a chisel to cut off the projecting pieces. The mast step was firmly bolted to the backbone at its thickest part, that is, just four feet
Fig. 169. The Mainsail. from the forward end. The mast was braced with stay ropes stretched from the top to the forward end of the backbone and to the ends of the crosspiece. A 9-foot pole, tapering from 1-1/2 inches to 1 inch in diameter, was used for the boom of the mainsail, and for the gaff we used a 6-foot pole of the same diameter.

The dimensions of the mainsail are given in Fig. 169. For mast hoops we used curtain rings. Five were attached to the sail along the luff, and one was fastened with a piece of leather to the end of the gaff. We used a different scheme
Fig. 170. Jaws of the Boom. for holding the boom to the mast. The forward end of the boom was flattened at the sides and a couple of cheek blocks were bolted on, forming jaws of the shape indicated in Fig. 170. The jaws were whittled out to fit nicely around
Fig. 171. A Cleat. the mast, and were kept from slipping off by a piece of rope passed around the mast and threaded through the ends of the cheek blocks. Half a dozen small pulley blocks were now procured, of the type used on awnings. A rope called the throat halyard was strung from the throat or forward end of the gaff through a pulley block near the top of the mast, and led down to the backbone, where it was “belayed,” or wrapped around a cleat. The cleat, which was whittled out of a stick of wood, was made in the form indicated in Fig. 171. A short length of rope was strung through a pulley block and tied with some slack to the upper end and to the center of the gaff. This rope is called a “bridle,” and to the pulley block on this “bridle” a rope was attached called the “peak halyard.” The peak halyard was passed through a pulley block at the top of the mast, and belayed on a cleat at the side of the backbone. For the main sheet (that is, the rope used for guiding the mainsail) two pulley blocks were fastened to the backbone, one just in front of the seat and the other a few feet further forward, and two more were lashed to the boom, midway between these blocks. The sheet was fastened near the aft end of the backbone and then strung through the blocks in the order illustrated, the free end of the sheet being brought back to the seat, where a cleat was provided, to which it could be secured when desired.

The jib-sail was now cut out to the dimensions given in Fig. 172. The foot of the sail was lashed to a jib-boom 3 feet 4 inches long. The jib-boom was attached to the backbone at its fore end by means of a couple of screw eyes. The eye of one of these was pried open, linked through the other and then closed again. One of the screw eyes was now screwed into the head of the jib-boom and the other was threaded into the end of the backbone. The upper corner or “head” of the jib was tied to a jib-halyard, which passed through a block at the top of the mast, and was secured on a cleat on the backbone. On the jib we used two sheets. They were attached
Fig. 173. The Ice Boat Completed. to the end of the jib-boom and passed on opposite sides of the mast through blocks on the crosspiece to the stern of the boat, where separate cleats were provided for them.

This completed our ice boat, and a very pretty little boat she was. It was with great reluctance that we furled the sails, unstepped the mast, and stowed away the parts in our attic until old Jack Frost should wake up and furnish us with a field of smooth ice.

The Sledge.

Our sledge was patterned after a picture of one used by Peary in one of his Arctic expeditions. First we got four strips of hickory 1 inch thick, 1-1/2 inches wide and 8 feet long for the runners and side rails. Beginning 18 inches from the ends, each stick was tapered gradually to a thickness of 1/2 an inch. Then we made eight spreaders or
Fig. 174. A Spacing Block. spacing blocks, each 1-1/2 inches thick, 2-1/2 inches wide and 11 inches long. In each end a notch 1/2 inch deep was cut to receive the runners and side rails. In the edge of each block, midway of its length, a slot 1 inch deep was cut to receive the cross sticks of the sledge. First we nailed the runners and rails to the blocks, fastening them with screws, spacing the blocks 16 inches from the ends, and 20 inches apart from center to center. Then we bent the ends of the rails and runners together, fastening them with bolts, as in Fig. 175. Four crosspieces, or floor beams, were cut out of a 1-inch board, each 2 inches wide and 30 inches long. These were fitted into the slots in the space blocks and secured with screws. A cross stick was also fastened between the rails and runners at the forward end. On the floor beams we nailed a flooring of 1/2-inch slats, 2 inches wide and 6 feet long. At the rear end these slats projected 8 inches beyond the last space block
Fig. 175. The Runners and Rails Spaced Apart. and over them a cross slat was nailed. A stick of hickory 4-1/2 feet long was soaked in hot water, as described on page 39, and was bent to an U-shape. The ends were then fitted over the first cross stick, and under the first floor supports, and securely nailed in place. Another stick of hickory 6 feet long was similarly bent, and the ends slipped over the rear cross slats and fitted against the rear space blocks, in which position the stick was securely nailed.

It was our intention to shoe the runners with strips of brass, but these were not procurable in our village, and we had no time to go down to
Fig. 176. The Sledge. Millville. However, the village blacksmith came to our rescue and shod our sledge with sleigh runner iron.

We had planned to make two more devices for our winter sports–a toboggan and a peculiar looking contrivance called a “rennwolf,” a picture of which Dutchy happened to unearth in one of his father’s books. Unfortunately Bill and I had to return to school before either of these was completed. However, the work was entrusted to Reddy, who was quite handy with tools, and Jack, who was made secretary pro tempore, took notes on the work.

The Toboggan.

The toboggan was made of light flexible hickory boards, 1/4 of an inch thick, 6 inches wide and 8 feet long. Three of these boards were used, and they were fastened together with cross sticks or battens, about 3 inches wide and 1/2 an inch thick. There were six of these battens spaced about 15 inches apart, and secured to the floor boards with flathead screws introduced from the under side and countersunk so that the heads would not project below the bottom of the toboggan. At the forward end we screwed on a head piece of oak, 3/4 of an inch thick, 1-1/2 inches wide and 20 inches long. The head piece was fastened to the under side of the boards, so that when they were curved up into a hood it would lie on top. The ends of the head piece, which projected 1 inch each side of the boards, were notched to hold the rope, which was tied fast after the boards had been steamed. The boards were steamed by wrapping them in burlap for a distance of 2 feet from the forward end, and pouring boiling water over them, as was done with the
Fig. 177. Tying Down the Head Piece of the Toboggan. snow shoes (page 39). Before bending the boards we had fixed screw eyes in the ends of each batten, except the forward one; a rope had been strung through these screw eyes and the ends were now tied to the head piece and drawn tight so as to bend the boards into a graceful curve. In this way the ropes were of service not only for curving the front end into a hood, but also for side rails, to hold on by when shooting swiftly around curves.

The runners of the rennwolf were made of hickory strips, 1 inch thick, 2 inches wide and 8 feet long. At their forward ends these strips were tapered down to a thickness of 1/2 an inch and curved upward. About 30 inches from the rear end of each runner an upright post was nailed. The post was 3 feet long and was braced by a diagonal brace 24 inches long, as shown in Fig. 179. A tie bar was nailed to the post about 6 or 8 inches from the bottom and connected with the forward curved end of the runner.

When using this odd sled one foot would rest on the runner with the toe in the strap, and by kicking out against the snow or ice with the other foot the rennwolf would be made to spin along at a rapid rate. Of course, when coasting both feet would rest on the runners and the sled was steered by an occasional side push at the right or left. Owing to the great length of the runners the rennwolf would easily ride over uneven surfaces and thin spots in the ice.

CHAPTER XV.
THE SUBTERRANEAN CLUB.

Bill had read somewhere that if you dig a cave under a tree the roots of the tree will support the ground on top and make a natural and substantial roof. It sounded very reasonable, we thought; in fact, we never questioned the truth of the statement, because we had somehow gotten the notion that books were never wrong, and that whatever was set up in type must surely be so. But events proved that the man who wrote that book had never attempted to build a cave in the manner he described, at least not in the loose, sandy soil of south Jersey. A large spreading cedar was selected as the tree which should support the roof of our cave. It was situated on a mound at the edge of the woods. First a passageway, or ditch, was dug at the bottom, and then we begun tunneling in the side of the mound under the roots of the tree. For a while the ground above held, and our tunnel had reached a length of about four feet, when suddenly, without the slightest warning, the sandy soil gave way and we were engulfed. Bill, who was furthest within the cave, was almost entirely covered, while I was buried to the shoulders. A crowd of boys came to our assistance and dug us out. Poor Bill was almost smothered before they scooped the sand away from around his mouth and nose. The boys made slow work of it, having to dig with their hands and a couple of shingles, because the two spades we had were buried with us at the bottom of the cave.

Of course, this little episode gave us a scare, but it was only temporary. We swore every one to secrecy, so that Mr. Clark, the principal, wouldn’t hear of the mishap and suppress any further cave building. It was obvious that the only roof we could depend on for our cave would be a wooden roof. If we had been at Willow Clump Island we would have gotten any amount of slabs from the lumber mills across the river.

One of our schoolmates, a day scholar, came to the rescue. His name was Chester Hill, a little bit of a chap, about the shortest for his age that I have ever seen. His name was so at variance to his size that we called him “Hillock,” for short. Now Hillock lived on a farm about eight miles from school, and used to drive in every day on a farm wagon. He had helped us dig the cave under the cedar tree, and when he learned that we would need some lumber to build a safe cave, he told us that he had an uncle who owned a lumber mill on the Morris River, from whom he was sure we could get all the slabs we wanted. Of course, we were delighted, and laid our plans for an elaborate cave house. Hillock promised to be on hand on the following Saturday afternoon with his load of lumber.

Excavating for the Cave.

We immediately set out to make the necessary excavation. The side of a bushy knoll was chosen as a suitable site. First we carefully transplanted the bushes that grew in the square we had marked out for the cave, and cutting the sod into squares, piled it all neatly to one side. Then we shoveled away the top-soil and heaped it up for future use. After that we dug away the sandy subsoil. The cave proper we planned to make about 8 feet by 10 feet, with a passageway 2 feet wide and 6 feet long, leading in from a large bush at the base of the knoll. Our excavation was therefore somewhat T-shaped (see Fig. 182). At the deepest part we had to dig down about 10 feet.

The digging was all done by Saturday, when Hillock pulled up with a big load of slabs. Slabs are a very unsatisfactory kind of wood for most purposes. Being the outside cut, they are usually very irregular and weak in spots. In many places they are almost clear bark. Of course, had our pocketbooks permitted, we would have used stout scantlings for the corner posts of our cave house and substantial boards for the walls, roof and flooring, but we had to be content with materials at hand. Eight of the best slabs were selected for our corner posts; four of them we cut to the length of 8 feet and the others to a length of 6 feet. The long slabs were set up at the rear of the cave, two at each corner, one flat against the rear wall, with its edge buried in the corner, and the other against the side wall, with its edge tight against the rear slab, as in Fig. 183. The same was done at the
Fig. 183. Framework of the Cave. forward corners with the shorter slabs. A couple of slabs were now set up on each side of the passageway, and a corresponding pair against the rear wall. The upper and lower ends of the uprights were then connected with slabs, called stringpieces.

The sides were now boarded up with upright slabs nailed to the stringpieces. An opening 3 feet 6 inches high was left in the forward wall for a passageway. Several slabs were
Fig. 184. The Siding and Flooring. now placed on the edge across the bottom of the cave, to serve as floor beams, upon which a flooring of slabs was laid. Next the rafters were set in place, one on each upright slab. Slots were cut in the ends of the uprights to receive the rafters, which were slabs placed on edge. As the forward uprights were 2 feet shorter than the rear ones, the rafters were given a good slant, so that the roof would properly shed any water that might soak in through the ground above.

A suitable flooring was now laid in the passageway, and the sides were boarded up to a height of 2 feet from the floor at the entrance to a height of 3 feet 6 inches at the inner end. A roof of slabs was nailed on, and then we were ready to cover our slab house with dirt.

Covering the Cave.

We avoided piling on the dirt very deep, because there was danger of breaking in the roof with a heavy load. A thin layer of sand covered with the top-soil brought up the level to about that of the rest of the knoll. Then the sod was laid back in place and well watered, and the few bushes planted back in their original positions. Our sodding should have been done in the spring for best results. The frost soon killed the grass, and the bushes withered away. But a few cents’ worth of grass seed was sowed in, and in time gave the knoll a very natural appearance. A bush at the bottom concealed the entrance of the cave, so that no one who was not in the secret would have suspected that beneath that innocent looking knoll were gathered the members of the “Big Bug Club.”

The Big Bug Club.

Of course, we had to organize a secret society, to occupy our subterranean dwelling. In that I fear we overstepped the rules of the school. Of course, Mr. Clark knew of our cave, in fact he visited us there once, lowering his dignity sufficiently to squeeze into the narrow passageway, and playing Bill a game of chess at our club table. He seemed quite pleased with our work, and complimented us very highly on the masterful way in which we had built the underground house. We told him that we had organized a club of the older fellows to play indoor games and have occasional spreads, but we did not tell him that most of our spreads were held at the dead of night, when there was no moon and the stars were hidden by clouds. At 10 o’clock each night the bell rang for us to turn out our lights, and after that the six members would each, in turn, keep a half-hour watch, that is, first one would sit up and try to keep awake for half an hour, after which he would waken the next fellow, who at the end of a half hour would rouse the third, and so on, until 1 o’clock, when the sixth watcher would wake up the entire club. Then we would all creep out the back window in the hall, onto the roof of the rear annex of the schoolhouse, and thence climb down a rope ladder to the ground.

Midnight Banquets.

I suppose we could have just as easily have tiptoed downstairs and out the back door, but it would have spoiled the romance of it all. The absolute stillness and the pitch-black darkness of the night were awe-inspiring. The roll of a pebble or the crack of a twig under foot would set us all atingle as we stole out to our cave house. Sometimes the night was so black that we could hardly find the entrance of the cave. Once inside, in the light of a few candles, the nervous tension was relieved, and we reveled in a banquet of cold victuals and dainties, purchased out of the monthly club dues. Our meetings in the cave lasted scarcely half an hour. In fact, the meeting, and even the banquet, were mere incidentals. The main enjoyment consisted in stealing out to the cave and back again, always at the risk of getting caught. Usually when we got to bed again we would be too excited to fall asleep right away, and when we did finally drop off our sleep was so sound that several times the breakfast bell caught one or more of us still napping.

The Club Pin.

We found it necessary to close the entrance of our cave with a door fastened with a padlock, so as to keep meddlers out. The entire school had watched us build the cave house, and, of course, knew just where our entrance lay. Then, in addition to the outer door, we put in another one, half-way down the dark passageway. On this Bill rigged up a simple combination lock which would baffle any one who managed to pick the padlock. This inner door opened outward. It was hinged to the floor of the passageway, and swung up against a frame set in the passageway. At the top was a board whose lower edge lay flush with the edge of the door when it was closed. For the combination lock we used a couple of spools, each with one head cut off and the central hole plugged up with a stick of wood. In the floor and the top board of the frame, holes were drilled just large enough for the shanks of the spools to fit snugly in them. Next we made a trip to a hardware store for a file and a couple of
Fig. 188 The Notched Washers. large copper washers, about 1-1/4 inches in diameter. The washers were fastened to the inner ends of the spools after they had been pushed through the hole. The washer on the door came just to the edge of the door, while the other extended below the door frame and lapped under the door washer. Then in the edge of the washer on the frame a notch was filed, while in the other washer two notches were filed, so as to leave a tooth which fitted snugly into the notch of the first washer (see Figs. 188, 189). The door was
Fig. 189. Washers Fastened on Spools. locked by turning both the washers until the notch and tooth came in line with each other, then pushing the tooth through the notch, and turning the washers so that the frame washer hooked over the door washer. Then the door could be opened only when the tooth and notch were brought in line.

On the head of each spool we pasted a disk of white cardboard, the edge of which was graduated, as in Fig. 190. Then we had a secret combination, say 11-19, which meant that when the spools were turned so that the number 11 on the door spool came in line with the number 19 on the frame spool the tooth and
Fig. 190. The Combination Lock. notch would be in line, and the door could then be opened. Of course, this combination was known to the members of the club only, and any one outside who tried to open the door might have tried for some time without bringing the tooth and notch into line with each other. Occasionally we changed the combination by loosening the screws which held the washers, and turning them so that the notch and tooth came opposite different numbers on the dials. This was done so that if any one should chance to learn our combination he could not make use of it very long.

CHAPTER XVI.
SCOOTERS.

There was nothing to do but to jump in, though I, for one, would have taken the train in preference had there been one inside of two hours. Dutchy, however, seemed to be in a surprisingly good humor, and kept up a lively chatter about things that the club had made in our absence. The skis, which have already been described on page 42, had been built under Reddy’s guidance, and they had already used them on Willard’s Hill, coasting down like a streak and shooting way up into the air off a hump at the bottom. Then there was the toboggan slide down Randall’s Hill, and way across the river on the ice.

Our Craft Strikes the Ice.

Dutchy talked so incessantly that we hadn’t noticed the field of ice which we were nearing. Just at this point Bill turned around with an exclamation.

“Here, Dutchy, you crazy fellow, where are you going to? Hard to port, man–hard aport–or you will crash into the ice!”

But Dutchy only grinned nervously.

“I tell you, you will smash the boat!” Bill cried again, making a dive for the steering oar; but just then the boat struck the ice, and both Bill and I were thrown backward into the bottom of the boat. But the boat didn’t smash.

There was a momentary grinding and crunching noise, and, much to my surprise, I found that the old scow had lifted itself clean out of the water, and was skating right along on the ice. Then Dutchy could control himself no longer. He laughed, and laughed, as if he never would stop. He laughed until the steering oar dropped from his hands, and the old scow, with the head free, swung around and plunged off the ice ledge with a heavy splash into the open water again. Then Reddy, who was almost equally convulsed, came to his senses. “Now you’ve done it, Dutchy; you’re a fine skipper, you are! How do you expect to get us back to shore again?” The steering oar was left behind us on the ice, and there we were drifting on the open water, with no rudder and no oar to bring us back.

The Scooter Scow.

The only thing we could do was to wait until the wind or current carried us to the ice or land. In the meantime Dutchy, who had suddenly sobered down when we took our water plunge, explained how he had rigged up the scow to travel both on ice and on water. He called the rig a sled boat, but the name by which such a rig is now known is a “scooter.” It was Dutchy’s idea primarily, but Reddy had engineered the work. Along the bottom of the scow two strips of hickory had been nailed to serve as runners. The hickory strips had been bent up at the forward end, as shown in Fig. 191. Each runner was shod with a strip of brass, fastened on with flathead screws, which were countersunk, so that the heads should not project below the brass. This virtually made a sledge out of the old scow, and didn’t spoil it for use on the water.

A Sprit Sail.

A sprit sail and jib were rigged up. The dimensions of these sails, which were taken from a book in Mr. Van Syckel’s library, are given in the illustrations. A sheet of heavy muslin was made to measure 7 feet square, as indicated by dotted lines in the drawing; then the corners were cut off along the full lines shown in the illustration. The edges were now hemmed all around, and the lower edge of the sail was lashed to a boom, 7 feet 6 inches long. To the luff were attached a number of mast rings, which were slipped over a stout mast projecting about 5 feet 6 inches above the deck of the boat. The peak of the sail was held
Fig. 193. The Snotter. up by a spar called a sprit. The sprit was sharpened at each end, and the point at the upper end was inserted in a loop of heavy cord fastened to the peak of the sail, while the lower point of the sprit rested in the loop of a rope on the mast, called a “snotter.” The snotter was a short piece of rope with a loop at each end. It was wrapped around the mast, as shown in the drawing, with one loop holding it in place, like a slip knot, and the other supporting the end of the sprit. A single halyard was used to raise this sail. It was
Fig. 194. Jib-sail of Scooter Scow. attached to the boat and passed over a block in the mast. When raising the sail it was first partly hoisted, then the sprit was hooked in the loop and the snotter, after which the throat halyard was drawn taut. Then the snotter was pulled up the mast as far as it would go, flattening out the sail. The jib-sail was made out of the large corner piece left when cutting the mainsail. The dimensions of the jib-sail are given in Fig. 194. It was such a small sail that no boom was used with it. In place of a rudder the steering oar had to be used. This was made of a rake handle with a large trowel blade fastened to the end of it. The sharp blade cut into the ice, and so steered the scow when it was running as an ice boat, and in the water the blade offered sufficient resistance to act as a rudder.

Scooter Sailing.

But to return to our sail home to Lamington, we were not out on the open water long before the current carried us back to the ice ledge. Reddy jumped off and soon returned with the steering oar; then we proceeded on our way homeward, now in the water and now on ice. Once or twice the scow was unable to climb out of the water, because she had not sufficient headway, and was clumsy and heavy with four boys aboard. Then we had to push off until we could get a sufficient start. It struck me that while Dutchy was quite clever to think of such a rig, yet it was very clumsy and capable of much improvement. Bill wasn’t saying very much all this time, and I could see he was doing a lot of thinking. Evidently he was planning some improvement, but Bill was a very considerate fellow, and did not want to spoil Dutchy’s pleasure just then by telling him how much better a scooter he might have built. It wasn’t until after supper, when a meeting of the S. S. I. E. E. of W. C. I. was called, that Bill came out with his scheme.

A Meeting of the Society.

“Why not mount the sailing canoe on runners, instead of the scow? You would have a very light rig then, and it would sail like a streak.”

“Mr. President,” said Reddy, “your plan sounds first-rate, but how are you going to fasten runners onto the canoe?”

“I’ve thought all that out,” replied Bill. “If we can only get hold of a pair of sleigh runners it won’t take long to rig up the sled boat.”

Dutchy, who had looked rather crestfallen at a suggestion of an improvement on his pet invention, now suddenly brightened up.

“I know where we can get the sleigh runners!” he exclaimed. “Dad has an old ramshackle sleigh in the barn that is just falling to pieces with dry rot. I’ll ask him for it to-night.”

“Do you think you can get it?” inquired Bill.

“I guess so,” Dutchy answered, rather doubtfully. “But say, suppose we send a delegation to see him about it?”

An Interview with Mr. Van Syckel.

This was agreed upon, and in the morning, as soon as breakfast had been downed, the entire society marched in a body into Mr. Van Syckel’s library. I was appointed spokesman, with Bill to back me, while the rest of the party were strung out behind, with Dutchy bringing up the rear. Mr. Van Syckel was not the man to take much interest in boys’ work, but we happened to strike him at the right moment, and before our interview was over we had told him all our experiences of the summer before and all our plans for the future. Then we did a good turn for Dutchy, too. Mr. Van Syckel had always considered his boy a “know-nothing,” and was very much surprised to find that he had invented the scooter scow. Why, he actually seemed proud of his son, much to Dutchy’s embarrassment. After that there was no trouble about getting the sleigh runners, and Mr. Van Syckel forgot the objections he had offered at first.

The Scooter Canoe.