“Still, since they are not centipedes it takes more than two boys to make a path, you know, Ned,” said his father, drily.
“But we could follow their skate marks—really we could, father,” cried Ned. “May I go, mother?”
“What do you say, Will?” asked Mrs. Miller, seeking refuge in her husband.
“Now that isn’t fair,” cried Ned. “Father said he’d leave it to you. May I? It’s just as safe as our back yard.”
“You’ll be very, very careful, and watch out for air-holes?” asked his mother.
“Yes, I will,” promised Ned.
“And be home before dark?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And not take any risks?”
“No, ma’am.”