s place in front, and off they went on
the brief, breathless trip straight into the drift by the fence below.

"I don't see anything very awful in that. Come up and have another.
Joe is watching us, and I'd like to show him that _we_ aren't afraid of
anything," said Jill, with a defiant glance at a distant boy, who had
paused to watch the descent.

"It is a regular 'go-bang,' if that is what you like," answered Jack, as
they plowed their way up again.

"It is. You boys think girls like little mean coasts without any fun or
danger in them, as if we couldn't be brave and strong as well as you.
Give me three go-bangs and then we'll stop. My tumble doesn't count, so
give me two more and then I'll be good."

Jill took her seat as she spoke, and looked up with such a rosy,
pleading face that Jack gave in at once, and down they went again,
raising a cloud of glittering snow-dust as they reined up in fine style
with their feet on the fence.

"It's just splendid! Now, one more!" cried Jill, excited by the cheers
of a sleighing party passing below.

Proud of his skill, Jack marched back, resolved to make the third "go"
the crowning achievement of the afternoon, while Jill pranced after him
as lightly as if the big boots were the famous seven-leagued ones, and
chattering about the candy-scrape and whether there would be nuts or
not.

So full were they of this important question, that they piled on
hap-hazard, and started off still talking so busily that Jill forgot to
hold tight and Jack to steer carefully. Alas, for the candy-scrape that
never was to be! Alas, for poor "Thunderbolt" blindly setting forth
on the last trip he ever made! And oh, alas, for Jack and Jill, who
wilfully chose the wrong road and ended their fun for the winter! No
one knew how it happened, but instead of landing in the drift, or at the
fence, there was a great crash against the bars, a dreadful plunge off
the steep bank, a sudden scattering of girl, boy, sled, fence, earth,
and snow, all about the road, two cries, and then silence.

"I knew they'd do it!" and, standing on the post where he had perched,
Joe waved his arms and shouted: "Smash-up! Smash-up! Run! Run!" like a
raven croaking over a battlefield when the fight was done.

Down rushed boys and girls ready to laugh or cry, as the case might be,
for accidents will happen on the best-regulated coasting-grounds. They
found Jack sitting up looking about him with a queer, dazed expression,
wh