“The river’s two and a half miles broad there,” said Dan, still speaking thoughtfully.
“And Shooter’s Hill is another two miles from foot to summit—that’s sure,” added Billy. “Some slide!” he added, repeating his exclamatory comment with gusto. “But do you think there’d be momentum enough to carry a sled across the river to this side?”
“No; I don’t,” admitted Dan. “But——”
“But what, old boy? What’s working on you?” demanded Billy, eagerly, beginning to see that Dan’s remarks pointed to some tangible idea.
“Let’s drive around by the house first,” said Dan, quickly, turning Bob and Betty into a side road.
The horses accelerated their pace at once, for they thought their stalls were just ahead of them.
Dan tossed the reins to Billy when they drove into the yard, and bolted into the house at once without saying another word. He was gone some few minutes, and Billy saw a lamp shining through a garret window before his brother appeared again.
When Dan did come out he bore an object that filled Billy first with amazement and then with delight.
“For goodness’ sake! what’s that for?” the younger boy demanded. “That old kite? Sure! you can put it up all right in a wind like this. But who wants to fly a kite on a moonlight night, when there’s bobsledding in prospect——”
“Great Peter, Dan! I get you! I see! Say, boy! you’ve got the greatest head ever,” declared the slangy and enthusiastic Billy. “Lay it down in back there so the wind won’t get it. And plenty of cord?”