96 THE WORLD OF ICE.

Such a charge did Peter Grim make at him at this
moment.

“Starboard hard!” yelled Davie Summers, as he
observed his master’s danger.

“Starboard it is!” replied Mivins, and leaping aside
to avoid the shock, he allowed Grim to pass. Grim
knew his man, however, and had held himself in hand,
so that in a moment he pulled up and was following
close on his heels.

“Tt’'s an ill wind that blows no good,” cried one of
the crew, towards whose foot the ball rolled, as he
quietly kicked it into the centre of the mass of men.
Grim and Mivins turned back, and for a time looked
on at the general mélée that ensued. It seemed as
though the ball must inevitably be crushed among
them as they struggled and kicked hither and thither
for five minutes, in their vain efforts to get a kick;
and during those few exciting moments many tremcn-
dous kicks, aimed at the ball, took effect upon shins,
and many shouts of glee terminated in yells of anguish.

“Tb can’t last much longer!” screamed the cook,
his face streaming with perspiration and beaming
with glee, as he danced round the outside of the
circle. “There it goes!”

As he spoke, the ball flew out of the cirele like a
shell from a mortar. Unfortunately it went directly
over Mizzle’s head. Before he could wink he went
down before them, and the rushing mass of men passed
over him like a mountain torrent over a blade of grass.

Meanwhile Mivins ran ahead of the others, and