idn't you know that this dazzling
whiteness of the Crescent Moon is merely the reflection of the sun's light
on the purest of pure white snow? It's too high up for dust and dirt here,
you see, and so the snow is always clean, and so, equally of course, is
dazzling white."

"But the tobogganing?" asked Tom.

"It's like swinging and letting the old cat die," explained the
Righthandiron. "You see, it's this shape," and he marked the crescent form
of the moon on the snow and lettered the various points.

"Now," he continued, "you start your toboggan at A and whizz down to C.
When you get there you have gathered speed enough to take you up the hill
to B. Then of its own weight the toboggan slides back to D, from which it
again moves forward to E, and so it keeps on sliding back and forth until
finally it comes to a dead stop at C. Isn't that a fine arrangement?"

"Magnificent," said Tom. "And do they call it tobogganing here?"

"No," said Righty, "it's called oscillating, and the machine is known as
the oscycle"--

"Don't confound it with the icicle," put in the Bellows.

"Oh, I know what an icicle is," said Tom. "It's a spear of ice that hangs
from a piazza roof."

"That's what it is at home," said the Poker, "but not here, my lad. Here
an icicle is a bicycle with runners instead of wheels."

"But what makes it go?" demanded Tom.

"Pedals, of course," returned the Poker. "You just tread away on the
pedals, as if you were riding on a bicycle, and the chain sets a dozen ice
picks revolving that shove you over the ice like the wind. Oh, it's great
sport!"

[Illustration: "YOU SEE, IT'S THIS SHAPE."]

Another rush and roar of a passing toboggan caused them to pause in their
conversation for a moment, and then Tom turned his attention to the
diagram Righty had drawn on the snow.

"Suppose you didn't stop at B and go back--what would happen?" he asked as
he considered the possible dangers of this wonderful new sport.

"You'd fall over the edge, of course," said the Poker.

"I see that," said Tom. "But if you fell over the edge what would become
of you? Where would you land?"

"If you had luck you wouldn't land anywhere," said Righty. "The chances
are, however, you'd fall back on the earth again. Maybe in Canada,
possibly in China, perhaps in Egypt. It would all depend on the time of
night."

"And wouldn't you be killed?" Tom asked.

"Not if you had your rubbers on," said Righty. "If you had your rubbers on