sled and climbin' this height just to leave me go for a passel o'
silly girls! No, siree! You come and slide with me right to once. I
set out to go a-tobogganin' an' I'm goin'. So none of your backslidin'
now!"

"All right, Mr. Gilpin, here am I! And I do hope it won't be any true
_back_ sliding we shall do on this thing. You'd ought to have put a
little handrail on the sides like I told you there always was; but--"

"But that'll do, Robin. In my young days knee-high boys didn't know
more'n their elders. That'll do!"

The old farmer's imitation of his wife's manner seemed very funny to
all the young folks, but his anxiety was evident, as he glanced from
his own hand-made "toboggan" to the professional ones of the others.
Upon his was not even the slight rod to hold on by and the least jar
might send him off upon the ice. Peering down, it seemed to him that
glazed descent was a straight road to a pit of perdition and his old
heart sank within him.

But--He had set out to go tobogganing and go he would, if he perished
doing it. Dame had besought him with real tears not to risk his old
bones in such a foolhardy sport, and he had loftily assured her that
"what his Reverence can do I can do. Me and him was born in the same
year, I've heard my mother tell, and it's a pity if I can't ekal him!"

Moreover, there were all these youngsters makin' eyes at him, plumb
ready to laugh, and thinkin' he'd back out. Back out? He? John Gilpin?
Never!

"Come on, Robin! Let's start!"

Gwendolyn and Dorothy were also ready to "start" upon what they
intended should be their last descent of that morning. Alas! it proved
to be! Five seconds later such a scream of terror rent the air that
the hearts of all who heard it chilled in horror.

CHAPTER XIII

A BAD DAY FOR JOHN GILPIN

What had happened!

Those who were sliding down that icy incline could not stop to see,
and those who were on the ground below covered their eyes that they
might not. Yet opened them again to stare helplessly at the dangling
figure of a girl outside that terrible slide. For in a moment, when
the clutching fingers must unclose, the poor child must drop to
destruction. That was inevitable.

Then they saw it was Dorothy, who hung thus, suspended between life
and death. Dorothy in her white and pink, the daintiest darling of
them all, who had so enjoyed her first--and last!--day at this sport.

Fresh shudders ran through the onlookers as they realiz