But the next morning, when Pete and I came to school, I happened to look up at the belfry.
Holy smoke! The Freshman colors were gone!
Pete beat me to expressing what popped into our heads at the same time.
“Eddie Summers ... the nervy cuss ... risked his fool neck to dip his colors to us. Well, I’d like to see him get expelled for that!”
THE SKI POLICE
Snow started falling in Centerville on Friday night and continued with the aid of a forty mile gale until late Monday. “A regular old-fashioned blizzard,” old settlers declared, as telephone lines were swept down and roads made impassable. For the first time in years schools were closed and inhabitants set themselves to the prodigious task of digging out.
“Greatest weather in the world for skiing!” Bill Stewart announced gleefully to his two chums.
“Yes,” said Phil Black, grinning, “with snow ten and fifteen feet deep in spots. If you ever fall off your skis, you’re apt to disappear for good!”
“Snowshoes would really be the thing,” replied Max, “but there’s seldom such a snow as this. I doubt if there’s a couple pair of snowshoes in all Centerville.”
“Skis will be okay if we’re careful,” urged Bill. “I’d like to ski up to our shack on Mountain Ridge. What do you say?”