by Anonymous
XVII
"SLIDING DOWN HILL"
One morning Bobby awoke before daylight. It might have been the middleof the night except that, far down in the still house, he heard amuffled scrape and clank as Martin set the furnace in order for the day.Bobby knew six o'clock by these dull, distant, comfortable sounds. Theair in the room was very frosty and Bobby's nose was as cold as a dog's;but underneath the warm double blanket and the eider-down quiltedcomforter Bobby had made himself a warm nest. In this he curled in atight little ball. Not for worlds would he have stretched his legs downinto shivery regions, and though he was not drowsy and did not care tosleep, not for worlds would he have left his lair before the radiatorhad warmed.
So he lay there waiting and watching where the window ought to be forthe first signs of daylight. Bobby liked to amuse himself trying todefine just when the window became visible. He never could. So thismorning, some time, no time, Bobby saw a dull gray rectangle wheredarkness had been, and knew that day had arrived. Over in the corner theradiator was singing softly with the first steam. Slowly the reluctantdaylight filtered in, showing in dim outline the familiar objects in theroom.
Bobby was just dozing when an unexpected sound from outside brought himwide awake. He sat up in bed the better to hear. Far in the distance,but momently nearing, rang a faint jingle of bells. At the same momentthere began a methodical _scrape, scrape, scrape_ immediately outsidethe house.
Without a thought of the cold air of the room, nor the warm flanneldressing gown, nor the knit bedroom socks, Bobby leaped out and patteredto the window. This was covered thick with frost crystals, but Bobbybreathed on them, and rubbed them with the heel of his palm, and soacquired a sight-hole.
"Snow!" he murmured ecstatically to himself.
The outer world was very still and bathed in a cold half-light. Overeverything lay a thick covering of white. The lawn, the sidewalks, thestreet, the roofs of houses were hidden by it; the top of the fence wasoutlined with it; great mantles draped the post tops and the fans of thefir tree; every branch and twig of every tree bore its burden; Martin,wielding a very broad wooden shovel, was engaged in clearing a way tothe front gate. Just as Bobby looked out, the milkman, his vehicle onrunners and his team decorated with the strings of bells that hadaroused the little boy, drove up, dropped his hitch-weight and with themilkman's peculiar rapid gait, trotted around to the back door. Thebreath of Martin and the milkman and his two horses ascended in thestill air like steam. Bobby heard the loud shrieking of the snow as itwas trodden, and knew that it must be very cold.
He dressed and went down stairs. Amanda, with her head tied in a duster,was putting things to rights. Bobby could find none of his snow clothesand Amanda was unable or unwilling to help him, so to his disappointmenthe could not join Martin. However, he opened the front door and peekedat the cold-looking thermometer.
"My," said he to Amanda, scurrying back to the new-lighted fire, "it'sonly four above!"
This information he proffered with an air of pride to each member ofthe family as he or she appeared. Bobby took a personal satisfaction inthe coldness of the weather, as though he had ordered it himself.
In the meantime he watched Martin from the window. Shortly the municipalsnow-plow passed, throwing the snow to right and left, its one horseplodding patiently along the sidewalk, its driver humped over, smokinghis pipe. One of Bobby's ambitions used to be to drive the municipalsnow-plow when he grew up.
After breakfast, in the customary sequence of events, came lessons. Theynaturally seemed interminable, and indeed, lasted much longer thanusual, because Bobby was unable to give his whole mind to the task. Atlast they were over. Under Mrs. Orde's supervision Bobby donned (a)heavy knit, woollen leggings that drew on over his shoes and pinned tohis trousers above the knee; (b) fleece-lined arctic overshoes; (c) ashort, thick, cloth jacket; (d) a long knit tippet that went twicearound his neck, crossed on his chest, again at the small of his back,passed around his waist, and tied in front; (e) a pair of red knitmittens; (f) a tasselled knit cap that pulled down over his ears. Thusequipped, snow- and cold-proof, he passed through the refrigerator-likestorm porch, and stood on the front steps.
The sun was up and before him the facets of the snow sparkled likemillions and millions of tiny diamonds. Across it the shadows of thetrees lay blue. In Bobby's nostrils the crisp air nipped delightfullyjust short of pain.
What did Bobby do first? Waded, to be sure. He found the deepest drift,augmented somewhat by Martin's shovel, and wallowed laboriously andhappily through it. Twice he was unable to extricate his foot in time toprevent a glorious tumble from which he arose covered from crown to toewith the powdery crystals. The temperature was so low that they did notmelt, although just inside the tops of the arctics thin bands of snowpacked tight. These Bobby occasionally removed with his forefinger.
Bobby waded happily. On either side the broad walk were tall mounds ofthe snow that Martin had shovelled aside. Bobby found these waist-deep.The lawn itself was only knee-deep, but it offered a beautiful smoothsurface. Duke appeared about this time and frisked back and forth madly,his forefeet extended, his chest to the earth, his face illuminatedwith a joyous doggy grin. He would run directly at Bobby, as though tocollide with him, swerve at the last moment and go tearing away incircles, his hind-legs tucked well under him. The smooth white surfaceof the lawn became sadly marred. Bobby was vexed at this and utteredfierce commands to which Duke paid not the slightest attention. Thelittle boy made patterns in which he stepped conscientiously, pretendinghe could not "get off the track." Of course he tried to make snowballs,but tossed from him in disgust the feather-light result.
"No packing," said he.
About this time Martin reappeared, after his own breakfast, to finishcleaning the walks. Bobby begged the fire shovel and assisted.
When lunch time came Bobby entered the storm-porch and stood patientlywhile he was brushed off. The entrance to the warm air inside promptlyturned the crystals still adhering to the interstices of the knitgarments into glittering drops of water. Bobby made tiny little puddleswhere he disrobed--to his delight and Amanda's disgust. The damp clotheswere hung to dry behind the kitchen stove, and Bobby sat down to atremendous lunch.
After lunch Bobby went out-doors again, but the novelty had worn off andhis main thought was one of impatience for three o'clock to release hisfriends from school. The snow was not yet packed well enough to make thesleighing very good, but everybody in town was out. Cutters, theirthills to one side so the driver could see past the horse; two-seatedhigher sleighs; the gorgeous plumed and luxurious conveyances of theelite--all these streamed by, packing the street every moment into abetter and better surface.
And then, before Bobby had realized it could be so late, a first, faint,long-drawn and peculiar shout began far away; grew steadily in volume.Bobby ran out to the middle of the road.
This street began at the top of a low, long hill eight blocks above theOrde place and ended three blocks below. Coming toward him rapidly Bobbysaw a long dark object from which the sound issued. In a moment, slowingevery foot because of the level ground and the still heavy snow surfaceof the road-bed, it passed him. He saw a ten-foot pair of bobs ladenwith children seated astraddle the board. Each child held up the legs ofthe one behind. In front, the steersman, his feet braced against thecross-pieces, guided by means of ropes leading to the points of theleading sled. At the rear the "pusher off" half reclined, graceful andnonchalant. With the exception of the steersman, who was too busy, eachhad his mouth wide open and was expirating in one long-drawn continuousvowel-sound. This vowel-sound was originally the first part of the word"out." It had long since become conventionalized, but still served itspurpose as a warning.
Slower and slower crept the bobs. The passengers ceased yelling andbegan to move their bodies back and forth in jerks, as does the coxwainof a racing shell. Even after the bobs had come to a completestandstill, they sat a moment on the off-chance of another inch of gain.Then all at once the compa
ct missile disintegrated. The steersman made amark in the snow at the side to show how far they had gone. Three seizedthe ropes and began to drag the bobs back toward the hill. The rest fellin, trudging behind.
But already from the group at the top, confused by distance, other swiftblack objects at spaced intervals had detached and came hurtling down.Some of them were bob-sleds; others hand-sleds carrying but a singlepassenger. Bobby stood by the gate post watching them. Each pair of bobsmade its best on distance, trying for the record of the "farthest down."Although the temptation must have been great, nobody cheated by so muchas the smallest push.
Bobby owned a sled on which he used to coast. It reposed now in thebarn. He wanted very much to slide down hill, but he left the sled inits resting place. Why? Because already Bobby had grown into big boy'sestate. He knew his sled would arouse derision and contempt. It had flatrunners! And it curved far up in front! And it was built on a skeletonframework! What Bobby wanted, if he were to join the coasting world atall, was a long, low, solid, rakish-built affair with round "springrunners." Even "three-quarters" would not do for his present ideas.
By now the hill was alive. A steady succession of arrow-like flights wasbalanced by the slow upward crawlings, on either side, of dozensreturning afoot. The mark set by the first bobs had been passed andpassed again. New records became a matter of inches.
At last Bobby saw bearing down on him a magnificent bobs that had notbefore appeared. It was gliding evenly where others usually began toslow up. Its board was twelve feet long. Foot-rails obviated thenecessity of holding legs. Its sleds were long and substantial andevidently built solely as bob-sleds and not, as most, to be detached andused for hand sleds as well. The eight occupants began to "jounce" whenopposite the Orde place, and Bobby saw with admiration that this was a"spring bobs." That is to say: the board connecting the sleds was not ofrigid pine, like the others, but of hickory which bent like abuck-board. When the occupants "jounced," the spring of this boardnaturally helped the bobs to keep going for some distance after it wouldordinarily have come to a stand-still.
This scientific bobs easily excelled all previous records. Its steersmanmade a triumphant mark, a full half-block beyond the farthest. So lostin admiration of the vehicle had Bobby been that he had failed even toglance at its occupants. Now as they returned, dragging the bobs afterthem, he recognized in the steersman Carter Irvine, and in the othersthe rest of his intimate friends. At the same instant they recognizedhim and greeted him with a shout.
"Come on slide!" they called.
Bobby joyously laid hand on the steer-rope and began to help up thehill.
The centre of the street was entirely given over to the coasters dartingdown. On either side those ascending toiled, helped occasionally by thegood-natured driver of a cutter or delivery sleigh. Then the steer-ropeswere passed around a runner support of the cutter and held by thesteersman who perched on the front of the bobs. Thus if the bobs upset,or the horse went too fast, he could detach the bobs from the cutter bythe simple expedient of letting go the rope. All the others immediatelypiled on to get the benefit of the ride. Some preferred to stand atopthe cutter's runners. It lent a pleasant sensation of a sort ofsupernatural gliding, this standing, upright and motionless, butnevertheless moving forward at a good rate of speed. Certain driversrefused, however, to allow these liberties, but scowled blackly whenaddressed by the usual cheerful "Give us a ride, Mister?" To catchsurreptitious rides with them was considered a desirable feat. Certaindaring youngsters stole up behind and crouched low against the runners.Occasionally they escaped detection, but generally tasted the sting ofthe whip-lash as it curled viciously backward. Then arose from the wholehill the derisive cry of "whip behind!"
At the top Bobby found a large crowd awaiting its turn. Some he knew,others were strangers to him. All classes were represented, rich andpoor, rough and gentle. To one side the girls and smallest boys weresliding decorously a hundred feet or so down the deeper snow of thegutter. They sat facing forward on high framework sleds with flatrunners, one foot on either side. Whenever the sled showed indicationsof speed, the feet were used as brakes. The little girls were dressedvery warmly in leggings, arctics, flannel petticoats and heavy dresses,and wore tied close about their heads knit or fuzzy gray hoods thatframed their red cheeks bewitchingly. Bobby had always coasted in thismanner, but now he looked on them with a sort of pitying contempt.
The main group stood waiting. New-comers fell in behind so that somerough semblance of rotation was maintained. The bobs' crews settledthemselves with the deftness of long practice. Then bending to his taskthe pusher at the rear dug his toes in, while the others hunched. With acreak the runners gave way their hold on the frozen snow; the bobsbegan slowly to move. As momentum and the downward curve of the hillexerted their influence, the pusher found his task easier and easier.His then the nice decision as to just how long to continue to push. Tojump on too soon was a disgrace; to delay too long was a certainty ofrolling over and over in the snow while your bobs went on without you.The artistic pusher came aboard gracefully, with a flying, forward leap,at the precise moment when the equilibrium of forces permitted him toalight as softly as a thistledown. The bobs shot away in a whirl ofsnow-dust.
Immediately stepped forth a tall, gawky youth clad in dull brown, fadedgarments, without mittens, without overshoes, his hands purple, but witha long, low, narrow sled as tall as himself. His left hand clasped thefront, his right hand the back. The sled slanted across his body. Adozen swift steps he ran forward flung the sled headlong with a smackagainst the road and followed lightly to the little deck. There hecrouched, reclining on his left forearm, his left thigh doubled underhim, his head thrust forward, his right leg extended. A magnificentstart! So perfect was his balance that the merest touch of his righttoe to one side or the other sufficed for steering. In an instant heshot close to the bobs ahead.
"Out! out! out! out!" he cried in a sharp stacatto--very different fromthe general long-drawn out warning.
The bobs swerved and he darted by with lofty and oblivious superiority.
In the meantime another boy had stepped forward carrying his sleddirectly in front of him, a hand on either side. He, too, ran forward,but cast himself and sled with a mighty crash into the road. Hedisappeared lying flat on his stomach, his hands grasping each aprojecting runner, his legs spread wide apart.
"Belly flop!" remarked the steersman of the next bobs, waiting. No greatspeed was possible by this antiquated method, so it was necessary togive the despised belly-flopper a good start.
Among those whose turns did not come soon was great rivalry in thematter of sled-runners. Flat bands were negligible and assigned togirls, quarter-rounds and half-rounds were somewhat but not much better,although several orthodox-shaped sleds were fitted with them. As betweenthree-quarters and full-round spring runners, however, was room forargument, and endless and partisan discussion obtained. This was amatter of opinion. A question of comparison was the relative wear andbrightness of the metals. This must be caused by use only. Theemployment of sandpaper would be to your small boy what--well, whatdynamiting trout would be to your fly-fisherman.
The twilight and the frost were already descending. Soon thelamp-lighter with his torch and his little ladder came nimbly down thestreet. On the down trip Bobby found his mother waiting by the gate, aheavy shawl thrown over her head and shoulders. In the darkness, andafter the cold, pale moon had climbed the heavens, the hill continuedthronged. About eight o'clock many of the younger grown-ups arrived. ButBobby had to go to bed, and he fell asleep with snatches ofconversation, the shriek of runners and the weird ululation of warningringing in his ears.