This thing determined upon we each selected a good broad piece big enough to sit or kneel on, and then began the laborious ascent, which, I may at once tell you, is the drawback to the enjoyment, for, though the coming down is delightful, the drag up the steep precipitous slope, with feet frequently slipping, is so toilsome a task that two or three slides down used to be always considered what Dr Stacey at Barnstaple School called quantum sufficit.
As a matter of course we were soon tired, but we managed three, starting from right up at the top, and close after one another, with the stones beneath us rattling, and sometimes gliding down swiftly, sometimes coming to a standstill; but if it was the foremost, those behind generally started him again.
In this case Bob went first, I followed, and Bigley came last, and though we two stuck more than once, he never did, his weight overcoming the friction of the stones to such an extent that, towards the last, he charged down upon us and we all rolled over together into a heap.
We tried again, but the fall had made Bob disagreeable. I don’t think he was much hurt, but he pretended to be, and said that Bigley had done it on purpose.
It was of no use for Bigley to protest. Once Bob had made up his mind to a thing he would not give in, so after about half a slide down we stopped short without being driven on again by our companion, and the game was voted a bore.
“’Tisn’t as if there were a couple of sailors at the top with a capstan, to haul you up again when you’ve slid down,” said Bob.
“Ah, I wish there were!” cried Bigley, “I get so tired.”
“No rope would pull you up; you’re too heavy,” sneered Bob. “Never mind, Sep, let’s do something else. The clatter streams ain’t half so slippery as they used to be. I s’pose we may do something else here though it is your father’s place?”
“Don’t be so disagreeable,” I cried.
“Who’s disagreeable?” he retorted. “I didn’t make the stones stick and old Bigley come down squelch on us, did I?”