"Oh, don't let them get ahead of us!" cried Alice in Paul's ear.
"I'll do my best," he said, with a grim tightening of his lips.
But it was not to be. Either a little more skillful steering on the part of Mr. Switzer, or a more favorable course enabled his sled to shoot ahead, just at the finish, and he won the race.
And then a curious thing happened. The sled kept on going, and slid into a little clump of bushes, from which, a moment later, a man with a gun sprang.
This man seemed as surprised at being thus driven from his shelter as were the coasters at seeing him.
"Ha! Vot does dis mean?" demanded Mr. Switzer. "Vos you vaiting for us mit dot gun?"
Really the man did look a little menacing as he stood there with poised weapon, looking at the coasters.
"I beg your pardon," he managed to stammer, at length. "I did not see you coming."
"I guess it's our part to beg your pardon," said Mr. Sneed, who, though he did not steer the bob, had been obliged to ride on it. "We did not mean to run into you."
"No harm done; none at all," the man said. "I was hiding here, waiting for a chance to shoot at a fox that has a particularly fine pelt, but I guess I may as well give up. I heard the shouts of you folks, but I had no idea you would coast away down here."