r. In front of the grocery
store, they found Pete, the wagon boy, placing the last of the noon
orders in his cart.

"Give us a hitch," they begged.

He nodded a cheery consent. "But hurry. These have got to be delivered
in time for dinner."

The boys ran the ropes rapidly around the rear axle and jumped on the
sleds. A shout, a sudden jerk, and they were off, swinging around the
corner on Southern Avenue with a momentum which shot them far to one
side. John drew a breath of relief, for it was his first experience at
the sport. Bill looked up from between the sled runners and grinned.

Along they sped. The smooth steel slid easily now over the closely
packed snow in the wagon ruts, now over bumps which forced involuntary
grunts from between their lips. As the horse increased his pace they
tightened their grasp on the sled hand-holes.

"Whoa," shouted Pete. The wagon stopped abruptly as he reached back into
the body for a package, and the sleds shot under the wagon almost up to
the horse's hoofs, before the boys could find a holding place in the
hard snow for their toes.

John dragged his sled out, and lay back on it while he waited for Pete
to reappear. The sun had pierced the heavy clouds, and dazzled the eyes
of the neighborhood with glistening reflections on the white, unsullied
lawns and doorsteps. On the more exposed portions of the closely packed
house roofs, the melting snow formed long, dagger-like icicles which
hung from the eaves, or clustered thickly around drain pipes and
gutters. The heel-packed lumps which had defied the efforts of the
wooden shovels to remove them from the cement walks showed dark,
water-marked edges under the influence of the warming rays. Near him in
the street, a flock of hungry sparrows fought boldly over a bit of
vegetable which had fallen from a passing fruit vender's cart, and in
the clear, dancing air was a touch of elixir which set his pulses to
throbbing.

"Yes," he said, although Silvey had asked no question, "it's just
peachy."

"Isn't it?" acquiesced Bill. "And your mother's afraid you'll get hurt,
doing it."

The smile vanished. What if Mrs. Fletcher should find out! The joys of
the sport, sweeter through their illegality, were not sufficient to
prevent a sinking sensation in his stomach at the thought of such a
catastrophe.

There came a scurry of footsteps on the walk close by him, another
caution from Pete and his sled rope tightened again. They drove from on