He had had considerable trouble in settling on a name. Billy Barry’s suggestion that it be called “Lightning” and Betty Martin’s laughing idea that it ought to be called “Oyster,” because it “slipped down so easily,” had received due consideration, but Bobby had finally settled on “Red Arrow.” This seemed to him to cover both its color and its speed. And that speed could not be questioned. It certainly shot down hill like an arrow from a how. None of the other sleds at the school could do such fetching.
Naturally Bobby took great pride in his sled, and the runners were rubbed with emery and oil until they were as smooth as silk and shone like silver.
There were several good hills in the vicinity of the school, but most of them were dangerous; one because it crossed the railroad at its base and others because cross streets, along which there was much travel, offered chances for collisions. These were therefore forbidden to the boys.
On one hill, however, they were permitted to coast whenever they wanted to do so. This stretched away from the town, and there were no cross streets throughout its entire length. It was absolutely safe, and as it was very long and reasonably steep, the boys felt no special regret at not being allowed to use the other hills.
For several days before Lincoln’s Birthday the weather had been mild and there was a considerable thaw. The snow on the hill had become soft and mushy and coasting had been impossible.
This interfered with the plans of the boys in Bobby’s dormitory, who had expected to have a big coasting carnival on the night of the holiday, when there would be a full moon. Now it looked as if the ground might be bare.
But on the eleventh of February there came a sudden change in the weather that gladdened the hearts of the would-be coasters. The thermometer fell rapidly until it was ten degrees below zero. The hill froze solid and was even better than it had been before, because the water from the melting snow now formed a glare of ice over the whole surface.
Bobby and his chums were jubilant over the change as they got together in the gymnasium after breakfast on the morning of the holiday.
“Isn’t it just bully?” cried Fred, doing a handspring.
“The hill will be like glass,” gloated Mouser.