obs laden
with children seated astraddle the board. Each child held up the legs of
the one behind. In front, the steersman, his feet braced against the
cross-pieces, guided by means of ropes leading to the points of the
leading sled. At the rear the "pusher off" half reclined, graceful and
nonchalant. With the exception of the steersman, who was too busy, each
had his mouth wide open and was expirating in one long-drawn continuous
vowel-sound. This vowel-sound was originally the first part of the word
"out." It had long since become conventionalized, but still served its
purpose as a warning.

Slower and slower crept the bobs. The passengers ceased yelling and
began to move their bodies back and forth in jerks, as does the coxwain
of a racing shell. Even after the bobs had come to a complete
standstill, they sat a moment on the off-chance of another inch of gain.
Then all at once the compact missile disintegrated. The steersman made a
mark in the snow at the side to show how far they had gone. Three seized
the ropes and began to drag the bobs back toward the hill. The rest fell
in, trudging behind.

But already from the group at the top, confused by distance, other swift
black objects at spaced intervals had detached and came hurtling down.
Some of them were bob-sleds; others hand-sleds carrying but a single
passenger. Bobby stood by the gate post watching them. Each pair of bobs
made its best on distance, trying for the record of the "farthest down."
Although the temptation must have been great, nobody cheated by so much
as the smallest push.

Bobby owned a sled on which he used to coast. It reposed now in the
barn. He wanted very much to slide down hill, but he left the sled in
its resting place. Why? Because already Bobby had grown into big boy's
estate. He knew his sled would arouse derision and contempt. It had flat
runners! And it curved far up in front! And it was built on a skeleton
framework! What Bobby wanted, if he were to join the coasting world at
all, was a long, low, solid, rakish-built affair with round "spring
runners." Even "three-quarters" would not do for his present ideas.

By now the hill was alive. A steady succession of arrow-like flights was
balanced by the slow upward crawlings, on either side, of dozens
returning afoot. The mark set by the first bobs had been passed and
passed again. New records became a matter of inches.

At last Bobby saw bearing down on him a magnificent bobs that had