“Umph! What did I tell you? Weather breeder!” was Lon’s oracular speech, when Sam sought his opinion of the probabilities for the morrow. But even Lon declined to commit [himself] on the sort of weather which might be expected. So Sam went to bed little the wiser, and woke to find another day seemingly much like that which had gone before, still, warm and hazy, with the eaves dripping more merrily than ever, the puddles bigger and deeper, and the streets coated with a slush, peculiarly damp and chilling in its effect on shoe-leather.
Sam splashed to school, to find that news of his party had reached the principal, and had won an unexpected favor—excuses for all hands from attendance for the last period of the day. The boon, it appeared, had been secured by the Shark, who stood high in the esteem of the head of the school, himself a member of the mathematically inclined brotherhood. It was thus possible to make an earlier start than had been proposed for Sugar Valley. Lon, called up by telephone, was agreeable to the change.
“Sure I’ll be glad to get away,” he declared. “Quicker I go, less I’ll be wonderin’ if I ain’t a howlin’ idiot not to start on wheels instead o’ runners.”
“Then you think——”
Lon cut short the inquiry over the wire. “I think it’s the breakin’ up of a hard winter, son. And that’s all I’m capable o’ thinkin’ at once. Now, you’d better get busy—I’ve got to.”
Excused a little before noon, the boys hurried home for final preparations for their outing. Sam found Lon ready for him. He climbed into the sleigh, and off they went, stopping first to pick up Varley, and then the Shark. Next they added Tom Orkney, Herman Boyd and the Trojan to the party, which now lacked only Poke and Step.
“Try Step’s house first,” Sam suggested.
Lon nodded, and chirruped to his horses, which broke into a brisk trot, with much splashing of water from the puddles along the way. The sleighing certainly was going fast, but so great had been the accumulation of snow that it promised to last out the day, at least.
“Say, Lon, why didn’t you bring a boat?” the Trojan queried, as something very like a dash of spray shot over the side of the sleigh.
“Huh! Ark’d been nearer the bill, seein’ the kind o’ load I’m freightin’,” Lon responded promptly.