THE WORLD OF ICE, 95

counterbalanced by their activity, and frequently a
sturdy little fellow launched himself so vigorously
against a heavy tar as to send him rolling head over
heels on the ice. This was not always the case, how-
ever, and few ventured to come into collision with
Peter Grim, whose activity was on a par with his
immense size. Buzzby contented himself with gallop-
ing on the outskirts of the fight, and putting in a kick
when fortune sent the ball in his way. In this species
of warfare he was supported by the fat cook, whose
oily careass could neither stand the shocks nor keep up
with the pace of his messmates. Mizzle was a particu-
larly energetic man in his way, however, and frequently
kicked with such goodwill that he missed the ball
altogether, and the tremendous swing of his leg lifted
him from the ice and laid him sprawling on his back.

“Look out ahead!” shouted Green, the carpenter's
mate; “there’s a sail bearing down on your larboard
bow.”

Mivins, who had the ball before him at the moment,
saw his own satellite, Davie, coming down towards
him with vicious intentions. He quietly pushed the
ball before him for a few yards, then kicked it far
over the boy’s head, and followed it up like an antelope.
Mivins depended for success on his almost superhuman
activity. His tall, slight frame could not stand the
shocks of his comrades, but no one could equal or come
near to him in speed, and he was quite an adept at
dodging a charge, and allowing his opponent to rush
far past the ball by the force of his own momentum.