Part 32 (1/2)

”Don't be a 'fraid-cat, Dottie,” snorted Sammy. ”I never saw such a girl!”

”Am not a 'fraid-cat!” declared the smallest Corner House girl, prompt to deny such an impeachment. ”Snow don't hurt. But you can't see where you are going when it snows so thick,”

”Shucks!” said Sammy. ”We can't get lost on this road, can we, Tess?”

”No-o,” agreed Tess. ”I guess we can't. We can't get off the path, that's sure. And we can see the marks the big sled made all the way.”

These tracks, however, were rapidly being effaced. The children were not cold, for as the snow increased it seemed to become warmer, and the hard walking helped to keep them warm.

They had to put Dot back on the sled and draw her the final two or three hundred yards to the top of the hill. There, fast as the snow was gathering, they could see where the other coasters had turned the bobsled around and prepared to launch themselves from the top of the hill.

”I guess they slid almost all the way home,” said Tess, with some anxiety. ”I hope we can do as well, Sammy.”

”Sure,” agreed Sammy. ”Ain't no need to worry about that. Now I'm goin' to lie right down, and Dot can straddle me. Then you push off and hang on at the back end of the sled, Tess. Don't you kids fall off.”

”I wish you wouldn't call me a kid, Sammy Pinkney,” complained Dot.

”And don't wiggle Bo if I've got to sit on you.”

”Well, I got to get fixed,” Sammy rejoined. ”Hang on now. All ready, Tess?”

”Yes. My! how the wind blows this snow into your face.”

”Put your head down when we get started. I've got to keep lookin'

ahead. Bet this is a dandy slide--and such a long one!”

”Here we go!” cried Tess, pus.h.i.+ng with vigor.

The sled started. It seemed to slide over the soft snow very nicely.

She scrambled on, and, sitting sideways, clung with both hands to the rails. Dot was hanging to Sammy's shoulders.

”Choo! Choo! Choo! Here we go!” yelled Sammy, wriggling with eagerness.

”_Do_ keep still, Sammy!” begged Dot.

But the sled did not gain speed. The gathering snow impeded the craft even on the down grade.

”Kick! Kick behind, Tess!” yelled Sammy. ”Kick _hard_.”

”I--I am kicking,” panted his friend. ”Why don't the old thing go better?”

”This snow is loadin' right up in front of it,” sputtered Sammy. ”It's too de-e-ep! Aw--shucks!”

The sled almost stopped. Then it went over a thank-you-ma'am and slid a little faster. The slide was nowhere near as nice as they had expected. Why! they were not going downhill much faster than they had come up.

The snow was sifting down now very thickly, and in a very short time the trio was likely to have to drag the empty sled through deep drifts. Even Sammy was secretly sorry they had come such a long way from the Lodge. Although it was barely mid-afternoon, it seemed to be growing dark.

They struggled to make the sled slide, however; neither Sammy nor Tess was a child who easily gave up when circ.u.mstances became obstinate.