“I’ll bet he’s hurt!” I cries. “I’m going down to him!”
As I’m strapping on my skis, though, the fellows bust out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I demands.
“He’s waving at us!” roars Tommy, “he thinks that’s great stuff! I don’t think he’s hurt a bit!”
I stand up and stare and we all wave back. Ronnie starts trying to climb the fence with his skis still on but he finds this doesn’t work so good, so he takes ’em off. And when I’m sure he isn’t hurt, I take to laughing myself. Honest, I haven’t seen such a funny spill since I can remember. Talk about innocence abroad! The way Ronnie has gone down the hill, so sure he has known all he needed to know about skiing!
“So you’re laughing at my boy, eh?” says a big voice behind us.
Wow! We just about freeze in our tracks! As we turn around, there’s Mr. Turner, so mad he can hardly see straight. How long he’s been standing there, we don’t know, but it’s probably been plenty long enough. And now we’re going to catch it!
“My wife thought something was up,” says the man who owns the hill, “so she phoned me and I came home. This is what you do behind my back, is it?”
“It was your son’s idea,” explains Tommy, who’s scared green. “He wanted us to teach him how to ski....”
“So this is the way you do it—start him down this big hill?”