“The worst is walking up again,” said Patty, looking back up the hill.
“Do you say that because it’s what everybody says,—or because you’re lazy?” asked Philip.
“Because I’m lazy,” returned Patty, promptly.
“Then get on your sled, and I’ll pull you up.”
“No, I’m not lazy enough for that, I hope! But I’ll tell you what I’ll do; I’ll race you up.”
“Huh! as if I couldn’t beat you up, and not half try!”
“Oh, I don’t know! Come on, now, do your best! One, two, three, go!”
Each pulling a sled, they started to run uphill; at least, Philip started to run, and at a good rate; but Patty walked,—briskly and evenly, knowing full well that Philip could not keep up his gait.
And she was right. Half-way up the hill, Philip was forced to slow down, and panting and puffing,—for he was a big man,—he turned to look for Patty. She came along, and swung past him with an easy stride, flinging back over her shoulder, “Take another sprint, and you may catch me yet!”
“I’ll catch you, no matter how much I have to sprint,” Philip called after her, but he walked slowly for a few paces. Then, having regained his breath, he strode after her, and rapidly gained upon her progress. Patty looked over her shoulder, saw him coming, and began to run. But running uphill is not an easy task, and Patty’s strength began to give out. Philip saw this, and fell back a bit on purpose to give her an advantage. Then as they were very near the top, Patty broke into a desperate run. Philip ran swiftly, overtook her, picked her up in his arms as he passed, and plumped her down into a soft snowbank at the very top of the hill.