“Ashes?” came a chorus of surprised questions.
“That’s what it is,” declared Howell emphatically. “There are heaps and heaps of ’em. I’ll bet they reach clear down to the bottom of the hill.”
He went down further and confirmed what he had said. He had no trouble in walking, for he could not have slipped if he had wanted to. The whole lower surface of the hill was strewn with ashes that spoiled the coasting for that night utterly, and promised to ruin it for many days to come.
A wave of wrath and fierce indignation swept over the boys as they heard Howell’s report.
“Who could have done it?” was the question that came to the lips of all.
“Could it have been the town council?” suggested Skeets. “They might have done it to keep the horses from slipping.”
“They never did anything like that before,” objected Sparrow.
“And if they were the ones, they would have made a clean job of it and gone right up to the top of the hill,” said Mouser. “But you fellows will notice that it was perfectly clear for a long part of the way down.”
“Mouser is right,” declared Bobby. “Somebody did this just to spoil our fun.”
“And they wanted us to be fooled and get started down so that we’d get a tumble when we came to the ashes,” added Fred. “That’s why they left it smooth at the top.”