So somewhere in the middle of the morning, Joel and David started off with their sled, drawing on their mittens with the greatest satisfaction, and bobbing good-by to the others watching them from the windows.
All went well, until Joe proposed that they should go to Simon's Hill, a long steep thoroughfare some two miles distant, that swung at the bottom very abruptly into the turnpike. And trudging off there, they climbed it with despatch, and began to coast down.
"Oh, whickets!" cried Joel, who was steering, little Davie hanging on behind, more than three-quarters afraid, though he wouldn't let Joel see it for all the world. "Gee-haw-gee-haw-whee-dimp-dump," as they flew over the rises, bumping and twisting from side to side.
"GEE-HAW-GEE-HAW-WHEE-DIMP-DUMP"
"Oh, take care, Joe," screamed David, in terror, "we most went over," for on one side the road ran down abruptly into a thicket of evergreen and scrub oaks.
"Hoh, we're going straight!" sang out Joel, "you're always such a 'fraid-cat, David Pepper."
"I ain't a 'fraid-cat," protested Davie, "and I want to go home to mother."
"Well, you are going down again, eleven, no, I guess sixty times," declared Joel, "after this. Gee-whiz-bump-bump-bang!" This last was brought out of him by a sudden slewing to the side, where the slope ran off to the evergreen, scrub oak thicket; but Joel missed the edge by about an inch, so he screamed with delight, and whizzed safely down the rest of the hill.
"I ain't going down ever again," said David, "not once, Joel," as they flew along and the cold air swept his pale cheeks.