WHEN THE BOBSLED UPSET
"Our sleds are ever so much nicer," declared Bobby sturdily. "Bobs are
no fun, Twaddles. You can't see a thing 'less you're steering. Come
on now; we're going down."
Bobby took his place on the sled, Twaddles grasped the belt of his coat
tightly, and Meg pushed. Away they went!
"Hurry up, Dot," cried Meg excitedly. "Let's get down before they
start to walk up."
"Can you steer it?" asked Dot cautiously.
"What a question!" Meg was indignant. "Didn't I steer it all day
Saturday, silly?"
But Dot, for some reason, did not want to coast. To tell the truth,
Meg had narrowly missed a tree Saturday afternoon, and after that Dot
had shut her eyes tight every time they went down the hill.
"You go too fast," she complained now.
Meg looked at her little sister, genuinely surprised.
"Why, you have to go fast," she said. "You can't stop the sled after
you get to going. And if you did all the others would run into you.
Come on, Dot, you'll like it after the first ride."
By this time Bobby and Twaddles, rosy and panting, had reached the top
of the hill.
"The snow's packed fine," said Bobby enthusiastically. "What are you
waiting for, Meg? Feet cold?"
"No, they're warm enough," answered Meg, absently stamping her feet in
the snow to prove it. "Dot's afraid."
"I am not!" cried Dot indignantly. "I just said Meg went too fast."
"And she wanted to know if I could steer," said Meg scornfully.
"There's nothing to steering, is there, Bobby?"
"Well, of course, you have to be careful," answered Bobby. "Suppose I
take Dot down? Want to go with me?"
Dot nodded.
"All right," said Bobby. "Meg, you'll give Twaddles a coast or two,
won't you? If he kicks you in the back just shove your elbow into him."
Twaddles looked abashed. He had a habit, when excited, of kicking with
his sharp little right foot, and Bobby strongly objected to being
punched in the back when he was centering all his mind on the steering
bars of his sled.
Dot settled herself comfortably behind Bobby and glanced back at Meg
uncertainly.
"You don't mind, do you, Meg?" she asked timidly.
"Mind?" echoed Meg. "Oh, no, of course not. Silly Dot!"
Meg, Father Blossom had once said, saved a good many minutes that other
people wasted in grumbling or envying or being cross. Meg seldom had
mean little feelings.
"One, two, three--go!" shouted Dave Saunders suddenly.
A whole fleet of little sleds with shrieking youngsters on them shot
down the hill.
"Gee!" cried Twaddles, forgetting and using his right foot vigorously.
"Gee, isn't this fun!"
"There, did I steer to suit you?" asked Bobby of Dot, as he ran gently
into a sloping snow bank and the sled stopped.
"It was lovely," sighed Dot. "Do it again, Bobby."
"All right," agreed Bobby. "You stay on, Dot, and we'll give you a
ride back. But Twaddles, you walk."
"I should think he'd better," declared Meg severely. "Kicking me in
the back like that!"
Twaddles was sure that he would remember the next time, and Meg forgave
him.
At the top of the hill they lined up again, and Bobby found Tim Roon
and Charlie Black on one side of him.
"Packs good, doesn't it?" said Tim affably.
During the fall and winter Tim and Charlie had occasioned a good deal
of trouble for Bobby in one way or another, and he was not at all
desirous of having much to do with them. In school, especially, they
had landed him in a sad scrape, and Meg, too, had had to endure their
teasing. Still, coasting was another matter.
"Have you been here long?" asked Bobby, as Dot tucked in her skirts and
Twaddles planted himself behind Meg. "Why didn't you come to school?"
"Didn't want to," grinned Tim. "Charlie and I coasted all the morning,
'cept once when we saw old Hornbeck's buggy and horse coming. Had the
whole hill to ourselves."
Dave Saunders shouted, and Meg and Bobby started. Down, down, they
flew, Meg's small hands steering capably, Twaddles' right foot prodding
her as enthusiastically as ever. Dot clung a little tighter to Bobby
and gasped with cold air and delight.
They were almost at the end of the coast when a loud roar of laughter
made them look back. A few rods behind, Tim and Charlie had upset, Tim
falling head over heels into the snow at the side of the road and
Charlie tumbling almost directly into the path of a coming sled. The
boy steering, however, managed to swing out and avoid the limp and
flattened Charles.
"Some spill," commented Bobby, using the slang he was learning in the
school yard and putting out his foot as a brake, bringing his own sled
to a standstill. "I'll bet that torn piece of runner caught on
something."
They stood for a moment watching Charlie crawl out of the road and Tim
scrambling out of the snow. Then they walked slowly up the hill for a
last grand coast.
"'Cause it's getting dark," said Meg, "and Mother said we must come in
at five o'clock. Let's ask Dave what time it is."
"Twenty minutes to five," said Dave, when they asked him. "Want to go
down on the bob?"
"Oh, Bobby, can we?" Meg clapped her hands with delight. "I've never
been on one. Come on, let's."
"What'll we do with our sleds?" asked Bobby doubtfully.
"Let Hester and me coast down on 'em, and then we'll keep 'em at the
big tree till you come," suggested Palmer Davis.
Palmer had been using his tin tray cheerfully all the afternoon, but he
did wish for a sled like Bobby's. If Bobby consented to his plan, he
would have at least one good ride.
"All right, take 'em," said Bobby, giving his sled to Palmer.
Meg handed hers over to Hester Scott, who likewise had none of her own
and had to watch her friends coasting, or hang on wherever there was
room. She and Palmer immediately started down the hill on the borrowed
sleds.
"Now pile on, kids," ordered Dave cheerfully. "Here, Dot, you and Meg
will just fit in here between Rose and Louise. Bobby, get in here by
Harold Cross. And, for goodness' sake, keep a tight grip on Twaddles.
If he falls off we can't stop to pick him up. All set?"
This was to be the last trip of the bobsled before supper, and Dave
packed on his passengers with extra care, desirous that they should
each one have a final perfect trip. He was to steer, and took his
place after the others were on. He sat before Rose Bacon, a pretty
girl with dark eyes and a scarlet cap, and her cousin Louise Lathrop.
Back of Louise sat Meg and Dot. Bobby and Twaddles were almost at the
end of the load.
"Yah! yah! bet you upset!" taunted Tim Roon, who had watched enviously
as Dave arranged his passengers.
"You keep still!" shouted the boys on the big sled. "All ready, Dave!"
With a sudden rush, the bobsled started. Dot clutched Meg frantically,
and even Twaddles was startled. They had no idea it would seem so
"different." The wind almost took their breath away, but they still
had enough to scream with. You've noticed, haven't you, how every one
on a bobsled just naturally screams when it is flying down a steep
hill? It is partly the fun and partly the excitement, we suspect.
Laughing and shouting, they whizzed on, till, just as Dave was ready to
shout to Fred Graves, the last boy, to put out his foot and Meg had a
confused glimpse of the big tree they were passing where Palmer and
Hester waited for them, something happened. The bobsled upset!
No one was hurt, though for a moment it was quite impossible to sort
out the arms and legs and wildly waving feet and decide to whom they
belonged. The boys were up first, and soon had the girls on their
feet, some of them speechless from laughter. The four little Blossoms
came up smiling, and though Dot had a scratch on her finger from a nail
in some one's shoe, it was trifling and did not bother her.
"All right? Everybody accounted for?" asked Dave, like the good
general he was. "All right then. Now I say we'd better streak it for
home. I've got some good stiff Latin to study to-night."
"What's the matter, Meg?" asked Bobby suddenly.
Meg's eyes were frightened, and she was feeling around the neck of her
dress. She had unbuttoned her coat and opened her gray muffler.
"My gold locket!" she gasped. "I've lost it!"
She began to cry.
"Lost something?" asked one of the older girls kindly. "What was it?
Don't cry, Meg, we'll help you find it."
"It was her Aunt Dorothy locket," explained Dot, for Meg was already on
her knees brushing the snow away. "Mother said she should take it off,
and now it's gone."