"But, wasn't it dangerous?" asked Jimmieboy.
"Not at all," laughed Bikey. "Sliding up you run into the air, and that isn't very hard, and coming down you land in a great snow bank—but this place here is much pleasanter, because it's warmer, and you don't have to exert yourself. That's the great thing about this track. We aren't going at all, though we seem to be—it's the track that makes my wheels go round. It's just a-whizzing, this track is, but we are standing perfectly still. If you should step off on to the road you'd whizz back out of sight in two seconds."
"Well, I won't step off, then," said Jimmieboy a little fearfully; "I don't want to be left up here all by myself."
Silently they went on for at least five minutes, when what should they see before them but a great stone wall, built solidly across the road.
"Hi!" cried Bikey. "Put on the brake—hurry up."
"There isn't one," shrieked Jimmieboy. "I—b—bub—busted it on the lawn mower the day of the accident."
"Back pedal then—back pedal," roared Bikey.
"C—can't gug—get my feet on 'em, they're going so fast," cried Jimmieboy.