'Keep your head, that's the chief thing,' said another adviser.
'You have got your ticket, haven't you?' remarked a humorist. 'Don't give it up till you reach the end of the journey.'
Then they put me straight and tipped me over, and for about ten yards I travelled, by favour of a good start, without incident. The sensation of tipping over the edge was indescribable; I don't know exactly what my heart did, but it was evidently highly surprised and disgusted, and probably thought I had insanely jumped over a cliff; I think it stopped beating; I felt, for a moment, sick and giddy; I shut my eyes for that instant.
'Steer to the right!' a deep voice roared from the top of the hill.
Instinctively I obeyed. Instantly my sledge, as though animated by the desire to look over the wooden parapet which ran, a couple of feet high, along the slope, jogged and jumped, then turned round, and, with the small amount of intelligence left in my brain, I became aware that I was whizzing along backwards. I tried to think of instructions received, but utterly failed; I endeavoured to keep cool. Where was I? I banged against something, and the sledge twisted round again; it did its best to run along sideways for awhile, like a crab; it butted me against a tree and got itself straight again; then it seemed to take the bit in its teeth, and, as if determining to get rid of me somehow, steered a bee-line for a Chinese-lantern post at a distance of thirty yards. I plunged my hand down, determined to defeat its malicious design, and instantly the little vehicle began to whizz round and round like a fire-work at the Crystal Palace. This was the beginning of the end; the next moment something 'took me in the waistcoat,' and I found myself waltzing in a sitting posture on the ice, my partner being the lamp-post, the lantern attached to it swinging wildly. Where was the sledge? The sound of hoarse laughter from the top of the hill was in my ears; the waltz ended in darkness and silence; where was I?
It was only a deep bank of snow, of course, and I was soon in the air once more. I did not know where to look for my sledge—I did not try. I did not, at the moment, feel well enough disposed towards it to care what had become of it. Some one fetched it.
I was received at the top of the hill with kind and encouraging words, intended, of course, to hearten me to provide a second entertainment. This I did, presently, but first I was resolved to be even with Watson.
'Your turn, old chap,' I said.
Watson looked at me with an expression of despair which was pathetic.
'I wish I knew what mistake you made,' he murmured, weakly. 'Did you hurt yourself?'