you my word that that flat-iron jibed twice--once for
practice, I jedge, and then for business. She commenced by twisting and
squirming like an eel. I jest had sense enough to clamp my mittens
onto the little brass rail by the stern and hold on; then she jibed the
second time. She stood up on two legs, the boom come over with a slat
that pretty nigh took the mast with it, and the whole shebang whirled
around as if it had forgot something. I have a foggy kind of remembrance
of locking my mitten clamps fast onto that rail while the rest of me
streamed out in the air like a burgee. Next thing I knew we was scooting
back towards Dillaway's, with the sail catching every ounce that was
blowing. Jonadab was braced across the tiller, and there, behind us, was
the Honorable Philip Catesby-Stuart, flat on his back, with his blanket
legs looking like a pair of compasses, and skimming in whirligigs over
the slick ice towards Albany. HE hadn't had nothing to hold onto, you
understand. Well, if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have b'lieved that a
human being could spin so long or travel so fast on his back. His legs
made a kind of smoky circle in the air over him, and he'd got such a
start I thought he'd NEVER STOP a-going. He come to a place where some
snow had melted in the sun and there was a pond, as you might say,
on the ice, and he went through that, heaving spray like one of them
circular lawn sprinklers the summer folks have. He'd have been as pretty
as a fountain, if we'd had time to stop and look at him.

"For the land sakes, heave to!" I yelled, soon's I could get my breath.
"You've spilled the skipper!"

"Skipper be durned!" howls Jonadab, squeezing the tiller and keeping on
the course; "We'll come back for him by and by. It's our business to win
this race."

And, by ginger! we DID win it. The way Jonadab coaxed that cocked hat on
runners over the ice was pretty--yes, sir, pretty! He nipped her close
enough to the wind'ard, and he took advantage of every single chance.
He always COULD sail; I'll say that for him. We walked up on Archie like
he'd set down to rest, and passed him afore he was within a half mile of
home. We run up abreast of Dillaway's, putting on all the fancy frills
of a liner coming into port, and there was Ebenezer and a whole crowd of
wedding company down by the landing.

"Gosh!" says Jonadab, tugging at his whiskers: "'Twas Cape Cod against
New York that time, and you can't beat the Cape when it comes