boy and his board parted company. The latter stuck fast in the soft snow and mud, and the boy went tumbling and rolling away, amidst the shouts of his friends. The fun waxed fast and furious. Mishaps were many, and Sam was particularly luckless. Sometimes his board would escape from his clutches, and go merrily bobbing down the slope away from him, or else it would run off from the side, and land him in the snow beneath, or, again, some other boy on his sled would come whizzing up behind him, and, knocking his feet out from under him, would carry him along on top of the pile, struggling and laughing.
“It’s curious,” he remarked at length, “there don’t seem to be no reason why my board should act so queer. If there’s goin’ to be anything left of me, I reckon I’d better quit.”
“I say, Bert,” suggested Ted, “let’s all go down in a crowd. There’s a short ladder over there that would be just dandy. Would your father be willing we should try it just once?”
“I guess so,” replied Bert. “I don’t suppose we’d hurt it any, and it would just about hold us five. That’s as much fun as ice-boating.”
