A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH
The horses faced the wind as they struck into the Long Bridge road, and
shook their heads impatiently till the bells on the harness rang again.
Billy crouched a little behind Dan’s bulkier shoulder, for Dan was
driving.
“Whew! some breeze this,” said the younger boy, who could not keep
silent for long.
“At our backs, if we coast down Shooter’s,” said Dan.
“That’s so. But we’ll have to face it going up—and dragging the girls,
too.”
“Good thing we haven’t any girls to-night, then, Billy,” said his
brother.
“Huh!” grunted Billy, who was not yet in a forgiving spirit. “I hope
that Barry Spink makes Lettie walk up hill every time. He looks like
that sort of a fellow to me.”
“If they have iced the course,” Dan was saying, reflectively, “and with
the wind blowing right down the hill, there will be some great sledding
this night. Why! if we lay down a couple of lengths of the roadside
fence at the bottom of the hill, we ought to be able to cross the flat
and slide right out on the river!”
“Some slide!” exclaimed Billy, with enthusiasm.
“The river’s two and a half miles broad there,” said Dan, still speaking
thoughtfully.
“And Shooter’s Hill is another two miles from foot to summit—that’s
sure,” added Billy. “Some slide!” he added, repeating his exclamatory
comment with gusto. “But do you think there’d be momentum enough to
carry a sled across the river to this side?”
“No; I don’t,” admitted Dan. “But——”
“But what, old boy? What’s working on you?” demanded Billy, eagerly,
beginning to see that Dan’s remarks pointed to some tangible idea.
“Let’s drive around by the house first,” said Dan, quickly, turning Bob
and Betty into a side road.
The horses accelerated their pace at once, for they thought their stalls
were just ahead of them.
Dan tossed the reins to Billy when they drove into the yard, and bolted
into the house at once without saying another word. He was gone some few
minutes, and Billy saw a lamp shining through a garret window before his
brother appeared again.
When Dan did come out he bore an object that filled Billy first with
amazement and then with delight.
“For goodness’ sake! what’s that for?” the younger boy demanded. “That
old kite? Sure! you can put it up all right in a wind like this. But who
wants to fly a kite on a moonlight night, when there’s bobsledding in
prospect——”
“Great Peter, Dan! I get you! I see! Say, boy! you’ve got the greatest
head ever,” declared the slangy and enthusiastic Billy. “Lay it down in
back there so the wind won’t get it. And plenty of cord?”
“Here’s line that would hold a whale,” chuckled Dan, climbing back to
the seat. “What do you think? Will we show those fellows something?”
“We’ll show Let Parker that she made a mistake,” growled Billy, going
suddenly back to his bone of contention with the town clerk’s lively
daughter.
The horses were off again in a moment, and it was not long before they
came in sight of the Long Bridge and the glistening, snow-covered slope
rising from the far bank of the river, and just beyond the bridge.
Dan and Billy could see their school friends and companions scattered
over the coasting course on their bobsleds. There were smaller sleds,
too; but several big “double-runners” carried parties of shouting young
folk down the two-mile slope and almost to the entrance to the bridge.
They did not mind the sharp wind—excepting while dragging the sleds to
the top of the hill. But even that task was accomplished amid laughter
and merriment.
The Speedwell boys drove across the bridge and put their horses under
the shed of a farmer who lived on the bank of the river. They lifted out
the huge kite carefully and with it, and their bob, hurried to join the
crowd just then starting up the hill for another trip.
“What under the sun you got there, Dan?” demanded Money Stevens. He
couldn’t approach to examine the kite, for he was dragging one of the
sleds himself and there were already three girls upon it.
“Oh! we’re going to show you fellows a new trick,” said Billy, proudly.
“You wait and see.”
Billy was looking for Lettie Parker, and he saw her now on a brand-new
bobsled which was being drawn by Barry Spink and the biggest Greene boy.
Mildred was with her.
“Hullo, Billy Speedwell!” shouted Miss Parker. “I didn’t know you boys
were coming over here.”
“Well, I hope you see us, Let,” said Billy, with an air of carelessness.
“We’re right here—and we’ll come pretty near leaving that bob you’re on
’way behind.”
“Just about the way your old _Fly-up-the-Creek_ leaves my iceboat
behind,” scoffed Barry Spink. “I believe you milkmen are a couple of
blow-hards!”
But Billy only laughed and he and Dan hastened their steps along the
snowy road. Where the hill dipped to the level of the flats the
Speedwells stopped and threw down two lengths of the fence. This opened
a course to, and down, the easily sloping bank of the river.
“Aw, say!” cried Biff Hardy, who was with another bob; “that won’t make
you anything. We can’t get momentum enough to clear that little rise
between here and the river.”
“Hold your horses, Biff!” advised Dan. “Let’s see what we can do.”
“And with a kite!” scoffed one of the other fellows. “What do you think
you’re going to do?”
But Dan would not be led into any discussion, while Billy was not just
sure what his brother was intending. Once on the top of the hill Dan
showed Billy what to do, in a hurry. They waited for the other sleds to
go, so as to have a clear field. Then Billy raised the kite, Dan holding
the stout line attached to it.
The stiff wind blowing from behind them, seized the big kite almost at
once. She rose with a bound, Dan letting the line whistle through his
gloved hands. She made one swoop when a flaw struck her, and then
mounted again and the wind caught her full and square.
There she soared, steady and true, and the Speedwells hastily boarded
their heavy sled. Dan fastened the line to a ring in front of the tiller
with which he steered the sled. Billy, hanging on behind, started the
sled over the brow of the hill by striking his heel sharply into the
hard-packed snow.
The runners squeaked a little, and then the sled plunged downward. Had
the wind been lighter, the momentum the sled gathered on the first
half-mile of the hill would have forced the coasting Speedwells ahead of
the kite.
But the gale was strong and steady. Away the great kite flew, with the
line taut most of the way to the bottom of the hill.
“She ain’t helping us a bit,” objected Billy, shouting into Dan’s ear.
“Those other sleds went just as fast.”
“Wait,” commanded Dan, untroubled as yet.
The sled whizzed down to the bottom of the hill and then Dan steered out
of the beaten track. The crowd watched the Speedwells in wonder. The
sled went slower and slower, passing through the break in the roadside
fence and over the drifts toward the river.
But the great kite was tugging now. It drew the sled on, over the short
rise, and then they pitched down the bank and out upon the river! They
gained speed again and quickly left the cheering crowd behind, never
stopping until they reached the other bank of the river.
“What do you know about this?” yelled the delighted Billy. “We got ’em
going this time, I guess.”
The kite fluttered over the trees on the bank and the boys were able to
bring it to earth quickly, and without damaging the kite. It was covered
with strong, oiled paper, and was not easily torn.
But it was a job to drag the sled all the way back again, and the kite,
too. The other young folk had made a couple of trips on the shorter
route before the Speedwells returned to the top of Shooter’s Hill.
Nevertheless, Lettie Parker and Mildred Kent were waiting for them.
Lettie had insisted upon leaving Messrs. Spink and Greene in the lurch.
She was determined to “go sailing” with the Speedwell boys.
“Do you think it is dangerous, Dan?” asked Mildred.
“Of course it isn’t,” declared Lettie, before Dan could answer. “I’m not
afraid to do anything that Billy Speedwell does.”
“If you really want to try it, Milly,” Dan said, “we’ll take you girls
for one trip.”
“You’ll break all your necks fooling with that kite,” growled Barry
Spink.
He and his partner took some other girls on their bob and started at
once for the bottom of the hill. They switched out of the beaten track
and went through the break in the fence; but the momentum gathered by
the bob would not take it over the little hill.
The Speedwells did not notice that Barry left the rest of the party
there and went over the hill himself. He was back in a moment, and just
then Billy got the kite into the air, and it began to tug at the
Speedwells’ bobsled.
“All aboard!” yelled Billy, and ran to take his place behind the girls.
Down the track they rushed and out across the flat. The kite tugged
bravely and carried them over the rise. And just as they went over this
little hill Dan uttered a cry of alarm. Right across their track, on the
steep bank of the river, lay a great tree-branch that had not been there
when the boys made their first trip behind the kite!
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