BETTY GOES COASTING
It did seem a shame that lessons should be as exacting as ever when
outside the trees bent beneath their white burden and eager eyes were
fixed longingly on the hill back of the school.
"You can't coast through the woods, anyway, Betty," Libbie whispered in
the French period. "You may be a wonder, but how can you go through the
tree stumps?"
"Don't intend to," whispered back Betty. "There's a cleared space in
there--I'll show you."
"Young ladies, if you please--" suggested Madame politely, and the girls
jerked their thoughts back to translation.
The moment lessons were over that afternoon, they dashed for their sleds.
The eight who chummed together had four sleds between them which was
enough for the enjoyment of all. Constance Howard had seen so little snow
in her life spent in California that she was very much excited about it
and had bought her sled in August to be ready for the first fall. Bobby
had been to Edentown and bought a little toy affair, the best she could
get there, and Frances Martin had sent home for her big, comfortable
Vermont-made sled that made up in dependability what it lacked in varnish
and polish. Counting Betty's, this gave them four sleds.
There was a conventional hill half a mile away from the school, toward
which most of the girls turned their steps. On the first afternoon it was
crowded. The Salsette cadets had come coasting, too, for on their side of
the lake there was not so much as a mound of earth, and whoever would
coast must perforce cross the lake.
"We'll go up to the woods," announced Betty. "There will be more room,
and it's much more exciting to go down a steep hill."
So it proved. The cleared space to which Betty had referred demanded
careful steering, and Frances Martin at the first glance relinquished the
control of her sled.
"I can't judge distances," she explained, touching her glasses, "and
I'd be sure to steer straight for a tree. Libbie, you'll have to be
the skipper."
So Libbie took Frances, Betty took Bobby, Constance took Norma on her
sled, and Alice steered for Louise, using Bobby's sled.
Such shrieks of laughter, such wild spills! If Ada Nansen had been there
to see she would certainly have been confirmed in her statement that
coasting was "for children." They were coming down for the sixth time
when Bob Henderson, the Tucker twins and Timothy Derby appeared.
"We thought we'd find you here!" was Bob's greeting. "Trust Betty to pick
out a mystic maze for her coasting. It's a wonder some of you girls
haven't shot down into Indian Chasm!"
"Well, I like a steep coast," said Betty defensively. "I wouldn't give a
cent a hundred for a little short coast down a gentle slope. Want me to
take you down on my sled, Bob?"
"I don't believe I do, thank you just the same," returned Bob politely.
"Six of you can pile on the bob, though, and I'll give you a thrilling
ride, safety guaranteed. Who wants to come?"
It ended by all taking turns, and by that time it was half-past four and
they must start back to school.
"I'm coming to-morrow," declared Betty. "I think winter is the nicest
time of the whole year."
"You say that of every season," criticised Bobby. "Besides, I think it
will rain to-morrow; it is much warmer than when we came out."
Bobby proved a good weather prophet for the next day was warmer and
cloudy, and when lessons for the day were over at half-past two, a fine
drizzle had begun to fall.
"Just the same I'm going," persisted Betty, pulling on her rubbers and
struggling into a heavier sweater. "The snow hasn't all melted, and
there will be enough for a good coast. I think you're a lazy bunch to
want to stay cooped up in here and knit. A little fresh air would be good
for you, Norma."
"I've a cold," said Norma, in explanation of her red eyes. "Anyway, I
don't feel like playing around outdoors. And Alice has gone to bed with a
headache and I'd rather not leave her."
Some had studying to do and others refused to be moved from their fancy
work, so Betty and her sled finally set off alone. She knew, of course,
that Norma's red eyes were the result of crying, as was Alice's headache.
They had definitely decided the night before that they would not return
to Shadyside after the Christmas holidays.
"I think this is a funny world," scolded Betty to herself, as she reached
her favorite hill and put her sled in position. "Here are Norma and
Alice, the kind of girls Mrs. Eustice is proud to have represent the
school, and they can't afford to take a full course and graduate. And Ada
Nansen, who is everything the ideals of Shadyside try to combat, has
oceans of money and every prospect of staying. She'll probably take a
P.G. course!"
A wild ride through the slushy snow made Betty feel better, and when, as
she dragged the sled up again, Bob's whistle sounded, the last trace of
her resentment vanished.
"Something told me you'd be out hunting a sore throat to-day," declared
Bob, in mock-disapproval. "The fellows all said there wouldn't be enough
snow to hold up a sparrow."
"Silly things!" dimpled Betty. "There's plenty of snow for a good coast.
Take me, Bob?"
"Well, if you'll come on over where there's a decent hill," Bob
assented. "With only two on the bob, we want to get some grade. Here,
I'll stick your sled in between these two trees and you can get it when
we come back."
Together they pulled the heavy bobsled up the hill and crossed over the
hollow, taking a wagon trail that led up over another hill.
"It's a long walk," admitted Bob, panting. "But wait till you see the
ride we're going to get."
They reached the top of Pudding Hill presently, and Betty looked down
over a rolling expanse of white country covered closely by a lowering
gray sky that looked, she said to herself, like the lid of a soup kettle.
"Bully coast!" exclaimed Bob with satisfaction, swinging the bodsled into
position. "All ready, Betsey?"
"Just a minute," begged Betty, with a delightful little shiver of
excitement as she tucked in her skirts and pulled her soft hat further
over her eyes. "Ye-s, now I guess I'm fixed."
They started. The wind sang in their ears and sharp particles of snow
flew up to sting their faces. Zip! they had taken one hill, and the
gallant bobsled gathered momentum. Betty clung tightly to Bob.
"All right?" he shouted, without turning his head.
"It's fine!" shrieked Betty. "It takes my breath away, but I love it!"
The bobsled seemed fairly to leap the series of gentle slopes that lay at
the foot of the long hill, and for every rise Betty and Bob received a
bump that would have jarred the bones of less enthusiastic sportsmen.
Then, suddenly, they were in the hollow, and the next thing they knew
Betty lay breathless in a soft snow bank and Bob found himself flat on
his back a few feet away. The sled had overturned with them.
"Betty! are you hurt?" cried Bob, scrambling to his feet. "Here, don't
struggle! I'll have you out in a jiffy."
He pulled her from the bank of snow and helped her shake her garments
free from the white flakes.
"I'm not hurt a bit, not even scratched," she assured him. "Wasn't that a
spill, though? The first thing I knew I was sailing through space, and
I'm thankful I landed in soft snow. Where's the sled? Oh, over there!"
"Want to quit?" asked Bob, as she began to help him right the overturned
sled. "We can walk over to where we left your sled, you know, Betty."
"And miss the coast?" said Betty scornfully. "Well, not much, Bob
Henderson. It takes more than one upset to make me give up coasting."
She seated herself behind Bob again, and with a touch of his foot they
began the descent of the second hill. The snow had melted more here, and
in some spots the covering was very thin. Bob found the task of steering
really difficult.
"I don't think much of this," he began to say, but at the second word the
bobsled struck a huge root, the riders were pitched forward, and for one
desperate moment they clung to the scrubby undergrowth that bordered what
they supposed was the side of the road.
Then their hold loosened and they fell.
Slipping, sliding, tumbling, rolling, a confused sound of Bob's shouts in
her ears, Betty closed her eyes and only opened them when she found that
she was stationary again. She had no idea of where she was, nor of how
far she had fallen.
"Bob?" she called timidly at first, and then in terror. "Bob!"
"Look behind you," said Bob's familiar voice.
Betty turned her head, and there was Bob, grinning at her placidly. His
cap was gone and several buttons were ripped bodily from his mackinaw,
but he did not seem to be injured and when he pulled Betty to her feet,
that young person found that she, too, was unhurt.
"What happened?" she asked. "Where are we?"
"The bobsled balked," explained Bob cheerfully. "Guess it knew where we
were heading for better than I did. Anyway, you and I took a double
header that was a beauty. If you want to see where we came down, just
look up there."
Betty followed the direction of his finger and saw a trail gashed in the
snow, a trail that twisted and turned down the steep, forbidding sides
of a frowning gorge. Was it possible that they had fallen so far and
escaped injury?
"Know where you are?" asked Bob, watching her.
Betty shook her head.
"I must have been away off the road," explained Bob. "Betsey, you and I
are standing at the bottom of Indian Chasm."