“I thought you had some poetry in you,” responded Tom. “I tried to make you appreciate the beauty of the night rather than appeal to the sordid side of your natures, and——”
“Cut it out!” begged Phil, with a laugh. “If there’s any coasting, and I guess there is, we’ll be in it. Come on, fellows, and we’ll see how our bob does on the hill.”
With laughter and gay talk, now that they had made up their minds to adopt Tom’s suggestion, and go coasting, the four chums, than whom there was no more devoted quartette in Randall, passed out into the corridor. As they descended the stairs they heard a subdued hum that told of other students bent on the same errand, and, when they had a glimpse of the snow-covered campus, they beheld many dark figures hurrying along, dragging single sleds or big bobs after them.
“Say, I hope no one pinches ours!” cried Tom, and at the thought he hastened his pace toward an out-building of the gymnasium, where the students kept their bicycles in Summer, and their bobs in Winter.
It was now Winter at Randall, a glorious Winter, following a glorious football season. For several years it had been the custom for the students to indulge in coasting on a big hill about a mile away from the college. Some of the lads clubbed together and had built fine, big bobs, with foot rests, carpet on the top, with immense gongs to sound warning, and with steering wheels that equalled those of autos, while some had drag brakes, to use in case of emergency.
The bob owned jointly by Tom Parsons, Sid Henderson, Phil Clinton and Frank Simpson, was one of the best in Randall. It was fifteen feet long, and could carry quite a party. It needed no small skill and strength to steer it, too, when fully loaded.
Our friends, getting out their sled, soon found themselves in the midst of a throng of fellow students, all hurrying toward the hill. The four chums had hold of the rope to haul the big bob.
“There are the Jersey twins,” remarked Sid, as Jerry and Joe Jackson hurried on, dragging a small bob.
“And here comes Dutch,” added Phil. “He can ride with us, I guess.”
“Sure,” assented Tom. “I say, Dutch!” he called. “Got a sled?”