DOWN WEST HILL

"Come on, Henry, let's go over to Jack's room," said Ward as they came out of the dining hall together.

The zest of the meeting with the boys was not yet gone and as they came into the hall or went together down the steps, the boisterous laughter still continued.

But Ward was not entirely jubilant, and as he looked about him at his noisy companions, perhaps he was somewhat suspicious that all were not so happy as the sounds of their laughter might lead an inexperienced observer to believe.

The winter term was the long, hard term of the year. In the fall, while each boy was aware that a long stretch of weeks intervened between him and the joyous Christmas time when he would again be at home, there were yet the re-unions after the long vacation, and the formation of new friendships as well as the renewal of the old ones; there was the excitement of the outdoor athletic sports, and the long tramps over the hills and through the valleys, to say nothing of the Mountain Day, which was one of the features of school life at Weston.

In the spring, in addition to the fact that the term itself was a brief one, there was also all the joy which the returning summer brought, and the thought of a speedy return home.

But the winter term was long and sometimes dreary. Storms swept over the valley, the fierce winds piled the heavy fall of snow into mountain-like drifts, and there was not very much to vary the monotony of the school life. It was the time when the hardest work was demanded and done, and the natural consequence was that as the Weston boys came thronging back to the school after the Christmas vacation time more than one of them returned with hearts that were somewhat heavy within them.

But all the boys had a dread of even the appearance of homesickness, and by every available method each sought to create the impression that he at least was not suffering from that dreaded disease.

Just why this was so, no one could explain. Surely no boy had any cause to feel ashamed of his love for his home and his desire to look again upon the faces of those whom he loved and those who loved him. But whatever the explanation, or lack of explanation, it was still true that many of the boys looked forward with anything but pleasure to the days of the winter term, and yet few were willing to acknowledge their feelings.

Ward Hill was no exception to the general rule at Weston. As he came out of the dining hall that evening and the cold, wintry air struck him full in the face, he lifted his eyes and looked at the snow-clad hills which shut in the valley. The towering monarchs seemed to be absolutely pitiless and forlorn in the starlight. Snow and leafless trees, and cold and lifeless landscapes seemed to be all about him and even the laughter of the boys sounded noisy and unnatural, as if his boisterous companions either were striving to drown their thoughts by their protests, or were endeavoring to force themselves into some kind of a belief that they really were glad to be back together in school again.

He was sharing in the general depression, and in addition to his desire to see Jack was the longing to be cheered, and perhaps compelled to forget the immediate pressure by the contagious and irresistible good nature of his friend.

Henry gladly yielded assent and in a few moments they entered Jack's room and had received his somewhat noisy welcome. Berry also was there, and Pond and his brother came a little later, and in the presence of such friends Ward's gloomy thoughts soon vanished.

"And how are all the good people at Rockford?" said Jack eagerly. "That's the best town I ever was in in my life. I don't see why they need any churches or preachers there for my part; a fellow has to make a desperate effort if he wants to do anything bad there."

Ward smiled at Jack's words as he replied to his question. He thought he might be able to explain to his friend that even Rockford was not free from all temptations, but Jack soon broke in again.

"If I didn't want Pond here to come to New York and take charge of the church I attend just as soon as he's ready to begin to preach, I'd say to him go up to Rockford. They are awfully good up there."

"Yes, some of us 'too good to be true,' I'm afraid," said Ward quietly.

"You don't suppose I'm going to a place where I'd have nothing to do but loaf, do you?" protested Pond. "No sir! I'm going to a place where there's work, and plenty of it too."

Ward glanced quickly at Henry and noticed the pained expression upon his face at Pond's innocent reference to the position of a preacher in Rockford. He was well aware of the almost passionate devotion with which Henry regarded his father, and indeed the feeling was somewhat shared by Ward himself as he pictured to himself even then the saintly beautiful face of Dr. Boyd.

"I don't know about that, Pond," he said quickly. "My impression is that Henry's father doesn't think he's lying in a bed of roses with such a scapegrace as I am to look after. I rather think it depends upon the man almost as much as it does upon the place he's in whether he works or not."

"That isn't what I mean," said Pond, perceiving at once that he had said something which might better have been left unsaid. "I know there's work even in Rockford, and there's a worker for the work too. I was only speaking for myself, and what I meant was that the place where there's the most to be done is the one which appeals most to me."

"Good for you, Pond," said Jack hastily. "My church is the place for you. The men there think if they give lots of money, and pay a good big salary to the preacher they've done all that's required of them. But honestly I'm most afraid the missionary part was left out of me. I like a good time. And fellows," he hastily added, "I've brought something back with me just for that very purpose. I got one and Tim Pickard's got one too. He brought his up on the same train with me."

"What's that you've got?" said Ward, voicing the immediate interest of all in the room.

"I've the daintiest bob you ever saw. Come out in the hall and see it."

The boys followed the eager lad, and there in the hall stood the long sled which Jack had brought. It was shod with slender steel runners, and in its narrowness appeared to be even longer than it really was. It was beautifully upholstered and equipped with the most approved steering apparatus.

"Isn't she a beauty?" said Jack enthusiastically. "I wouldn't dare tell you what my father paid for her. I just hinted that I wanted the best affair in all the city, and behold! just before I started for the train, this bob put in an appearance."

The enthusiasm of the boys was almost equal to that of the sled's owner, as they noted its good points and examined it critically.

"We'll have some fun on her," said Jack. "She's like an arrow almost. What is it we sing in chapel, 'Swift as an arrow cleaves the air'? Well, that's what this bob can do. She's a good ten feet in length, and I think she won't tarry very long on her way down West Hill, do you?"

"How many will she carry, Jack?" inquired Ward.

"All I can put on her. I can pack away ten or twelve, and maybe more. We'll soon see. Come up on West Hill to-morrow afternoon after study hour, will you, fellows?"

All the boy............