The big animal obeyed. He fell at the feet of the stout boy and looked plaintively at him. Dave seized his jaws, and opened them wide; not a tooth was visible.
"What did I tell you?" he laughed.
"That settles it, to my mind," said Hackett. "I'll bet those chaps are the ones who threw the snowballs."
"Hi, hi!" yelled Musgrove, from the top of the hill. "Hi, hi! Here I go!"
The boys saw that he had fastened a skee to each foot, and, with a long balance pole in his hand, stood ready to make the descent.
For a moment, he almost disappeared over the crest of the hill. Then the boys saw him moving forward, and the next instant, with arms outstretched, he shot down over the icy surface of the declivity at terrific speed.
"My eye!" cried Hackett.
"Christopher!" chimed in Nat, while various exclamations came from the others.
Musgrove seemed to fairly fly, gathering speed as he passed down the long slope. Breathlessly, the boys watched him skimming nearer and nearer. Like a flash, he mounted the small hillock at the base of the hill—the onlookers saw him shoot off in the air for a distance of fully fifteen feet, then strike the level stretch and skim over its surface at lightning speed.
"Here I come!" yelled Tim Sladder. "Whoop—look out!"