CHAPTER XVIII
DASHLEIGH IS LATE AGAIN.
The snow came again, covering the levels and the hills and the icy expanses of the lakes. The morning after its fall, Bert Dashleigh appeared in the campus on skies, and was promptly challenged by numerous freshmen friends for various races.
“Hello, old ski-zicks!” said Ready, coming on the scene. “I’ll race you on those things. No, I don’t mean just that, for you’ll want to wear those. I mean I’ll race you on another pair.”
“You’ll wear the other pair?”
“Yes. I’ll wear a pair and you’ll wear a pair, and we’ll race. The instructor told me yesterday that my exuberant English needed pruning. He seemed to think that was what I came to Yale for. And that’s strange, for I thought I came here to study football.”
He was examining the skies as he talked.
“I thought you came here to torment freshmen!” Bert mildly ventured.
“Well, yes, come to think of it, soph life would hardly be worth living if it wasn’t for you freshies. But I’ll take pity on you and overlook the wide difference in our stations and condescend to race with you on skies this afternoon, or this morning, or any other old time. I’ve a pair in my room. The fellow who took them up there thought they needed pruning by the time he got them through the doorway, and stacked them up against the wall.”
There are few more attractive winter sports than a run into the country on Norwegian skies, especially if the snow is in good condition for the sport, and there are hills for swift descent.
Ready and Dashleigh made a ski-ing trip that afternoon which yielded sport, pleasure, and healthful exercise.