“Right-oh!” agreed Nat, looking back along the towline of the sled. “See how he forever puts himself within the danger zone of pretty girls. Gee! but Ned and I are a reckless team! What say, Neddie?”
“I say do your share of the pulling,” returned his brother. “Those girls are no feather-weights, and this is up hill.”
“Oh, to be so insulted!” murmured Tavia. “To accuse us of bearing extra flesh about with us when we all follow Lovely Lucy Larriper’s directions, given in the Evening Bazoo. Not a pound of the superfluous do we carry.”
“Dorothy’s getting chunky,” announced Nat, wickedly.
“You’re another!” cried Tavia, standing up for her chum. “Her lovely curves are to be praised—oh!”
At that moment the young men ran the runners on one side of the sled over an ice-covered stump, and the girls all joined in Tavia’s scream. If there had not been handholds they would all three have been ignominiously dumped off.
“Pardon, ladies! Watch your step!” Ned said. “And don’t get us confused with your ‘beauty-talks’ business. Besides, it isn’t really modest. I always blush myself when I inadvertently turn over to the woman’s page of the evening paper. It is a delicate place for mere man to tread.”
“Hooray!” ejaculated his brother, making a false step himself just then. “Wish I had creepers on. This is a mighty delicate place for a fellow to tread, too, my boy.”
In fact, they soon had to order the girls off the sled. The way was becoming too steep and the side of the hill was just as slick as the highway had been.
With much laughter and not a few terrified “squawks,” to quote Tavia, the girls scrambled up the slope after the boys and the sled. Suddenly piercing screams came from above them.