“Oh, Mr. Ross,” cried Grace, “would it be very much trouble for you to put that nearest pile of them on the back part of the sled? I can find use for them at home, I know, and I should like to take them with me ever so much!”
“Sartainly; no trouble at all”; and in two or three great armfuls the pile of beautiful coral pine was heaped upon the sleigh.
The morning wore on toward nine o’clock, and as the sun rose higher the air grew warmer. The roads were steadily improving, and the ponies trotted along at a nimble pace. The boys began to be tired of sitting still.
“I’m not going to burrow up in this straw any longer,” said Win; “I’m going to get up and stir about a little.”
“So am I,” said Phil.
It was easy enough to stand on the sled while it was in motion. In rough places the boys could take hold of the rail of the wood rack; and even if they fell it did not hurt them. Pretty soon Win, who had an artist’s eye, began to pull out long vines of the evergreen and wind them round the stakes of the wood rack.
“I say, Phil,” he cried, “if we only had some string, we could fix this old frame so that it would look nobby!”
“Well, here’s your string,” said Will, producing a ball of twine from his overcoat pocket and tossing it to his brother. “I put that in my pocket by mistake when I tied up my last package yesterday morning, and have been wishing it in Amherst ever since.”
“Jolly!” shouted Win. “Now, Mr. Ross, you’ll see what we’ll make of your wood sled.”
“Goin’ t’ make a kind o’ Cindereller coach on ’t, hey? Well, go ahead! I shan’t be ashamed on ’t, no matter how fine ye fix it.”