burst of speed, dashed directly in
front of him, in the centre of this narrow place. Frank, with his
suspicions all aroused, keenly watched him, and to his astonishment saw
him deliberately but cautiously let slowly trickle from his hands fine
streams of the white crystal quartz sand of that country. To have
skated over it would have so dulled his keen-edged skates that anything
like victory would have been impossible. There are times when the mind
works rapidly, and so it did here with Frank. The first thought was to
shout out and expose the villainy. The next was to evade the trap and
for the present say nothing about it, and see what trick would next he
tried. So, quickly veering to the windward side sufficiently to make it
sure that he would escape the sand, he rapidly sped along, humiliated
and indignant that a white man would try a trick that an Indian would
scorn to do.

On and on they flew. The route turned and twisted, and in several of
the windings it brought them in fair view of the excited group on the
mission hill who watched their progress, for now more than one half of
the route was covered. They were now entering a kind of a maze among
the islands, where persons not thoroughly acquainted with the route
required to keep a vigilant eye on the different flags. In the front
group was Frank, and closely edging beside him, he noticed with
pleasure, was Kepastick, the one-armed lad, with his beautiful new
skates, now serving him grandly and well.

"Chist!" said the Indian lad quickly, and Frank knew by the way that
this word, which means "look," was uttered that there was something
meant. Letting the boy glide just ahead of him, Frank caught the
meaning of his words, though uttered in broken English:

"Some bad hearts change flags to bother Frank. Frank keep near
Kepastick. He knows the trail."

These friendly words were uttered none too soon, for Frank saw at once
that even some of the Indians, trusting to the flags, were perplexed and
some had gone hopelessly astray. With a rush and a jeer of triumph a
white clerk made an attempt to fly by, for once out of that labyrinth of
crooked icy channels the home stretch was as straight as an arrow.
Frank was for responding to his spurt with an effort equally desperate,
when Kepastick checked him with:

"One Indian, good heart, meet clerk's bad heart; all right yet."

Frank, now completely bewildered, yielded himself implicitly to the
guidance of K