“You’ve let Paul Martinson take you down three times to my once,” he accused her, while he settled himself comfortably behind her on the sled. “And now it’s my turn. Hey, look out there, you fellows—we’re off!”
And before the astonished Billie could do more than utter a giggling protest, they were indeed “off,” flying down the ice-glazed hill at a rate that took her breath away.
“Some speed, eh?” chortled Teddy in her ear. “This old boat of mine has got ’em all beat. I bet we could race them all to a standstill.”
“Why don’t we try?” Billie yelled back at him. “It would be lots of fun. Oh, Teddy, look out!” she shrieked, for they had reached the foot of the hill and Teddy had skimmed so close to the trunk of a tree that Billie afterward declared they had scraped off a piece of bark.
“Don’t worry,” Teddy said, reassuringly. “Nothing’s going to happen to you when you’re with your uncle Ted.”
At which remark Billie could not help giggling to herself. “Boys did think they were so awfully much!” Then suddenly she cried out:
“Teddy, that’s the wrong path! We have never been down it before.”
“That’s why I’m trying it,” said Teddy recklessly, as he swung down the strange path that ran at right angles to the one they were on. “The ground slopes, too, so we ought to have some more fun.”
Billie said nothing. She would not for the life of her have Teddy guess that she was afraid. They had never been down that path before, because never before had a sled had momentum enough to carry it that far.
And the ground was sloping more and more and the sled was going faster and faster with each second. The path was by no means straight, either, and if Teddy had not been pretty good at keeping his head they would most surely have run into something and have had a nasty spill.