NED—oh, Ned! It’s snowing!” called Mr. , up the stairs.  
“!” called back Ned, bouncing out of that bed which only a moment before he had been loth to leave.
 
He jumped to the window, and gazed out. The big against the at the end of his nose. Air and earth were white.
 
“Bully!” again exclaimed Ned, on his clothes.
 
The affair of the campaign parade was now only an irritating memory; a president and vice-president had been elected; processions were a thing of the past, with the Republican county central committee short two torches, two caps, and two ; winter had arrived with a , sending the wild for the ; Thanksgiving—a snapping cold Thanksgiving of skating and appetites—was over; and still upon the frozen ground no snow had fallen.
 
But here it was, at last, with a .
 
“Walks to clean, Neddie,” teased his mother.
 
“I don’t care,” retorted Ned, from his room.
 
“There! Don’t forget that you’ve said it,” laughed his mother.
 
 
Now at the beginning of the winter it seemed to Ned that he would as soon as not walks. Anything that had to do with snow was fun.
 
All day the snow fell. At first it was in the shape of big, feathery flakes which clung to everything that they touched. Then, when a good thick coating had been given the world, down came the gritty, small flakes, upon their larger , and piling up for two feet.
 
Thus, at the bottom was the layer of damp “packing” snow, and at the top was the colder, freezing layer. Conditions for coasting could not have been better had the Beaufort young people planned and carried out to suit themselves.
 
Moreover, to-day was Thursday. By Saturday Breede’s Hill would be in prime condition.
 
With the approach of night the downfall slackened. Through all the town sounded the scrape, scrape of the snow-shovel. Ned added his note to the harmony, for he had a front walk, and a walk around the house, and a path to the barn, and one to the wood-shed to clean, besides a few trimmings such as the horse-block, and the steps and porches.
 
Bob welcomed the snow with great . He frolicked and barked, and up mouthfuls in of the theory that eating snow gives one the sore throat. No doubt he barked so much that his throat did not have time to get sore.
 
Dogs have their own rules of , anyway.
 
Ned’s sled had been brought out from summer quarters in the , and had been waiting on the back porch for quite a month. Although, on account of his extra chores, he could not use it at once, during his between school and supper he could not resist giving it a moment of exercise—just to limber it up. It left a red trail of ; but he knew that the rust would soon wear off.
 
This sled of Ned’s was a novelty, and the joy of his heart. It was of clipper pattern, but very low—not more than four inches from the ground. It had sharp points, longer than its body; when Ned upon it the points stuck far out before, and his legs stuck far out behind. The runners were round steel, and well sprung. How that sled did go! It was no good for ruts, or for deep snow, but given a smooth track it could beat any sled in Beaufort. No matter how icy the hill, when other sleds had a tendency to and drift sideways this little sled straight as an arrow beyond the mark of all.
 
Sighing because now was night instead of morning Ned restored the sled, with a fond pat of promise, to its corner, and went in to supper, whither he had been for some time by the delicious sizzling of fried mush.
 
Friday broke bright as a new dollar, with sunshine that proved just warm enough to the snow and settle it. Around school passed the word among Ned and Hal and Tom and kindred spirits to “come to Breede’s Hill and help break it.”
 
Breede’s Hill—ah, but that was a hill for you! Two blocks of slope and two blocks more of slide, and all, in the height of the season, as smooth as oil! Here were four blocks of street practically given over to the coasters. For a driver to try the slippery incline, either on wheels or on runners, was foolhardy; while to cross at the base was to invite a sudden attack from catapult bob or sled.
 
A bob had been known to scoot right between the wheels of a , and not hurt a thing, so swift was it going; and Ned himself, , unable to stop, had taken the legs from under a stupid cow; but when she had reached the snow with a he had been far away.
 
Breede’s Hill had been so by some history ; on the next street south was Bunker Hill, in like manner named. It was not a proper hill for coasting, being rocky, and having a sharp curve.
 
On this Friday afternoon after school Ned, accompanied by Bob, dragged his snake-like sled to Breede’s Hill. Here he and a dozen others lustily for an hour and a half, breaking a track. One or two sleighs had been along the road, but the snow lay deep and white, with its possibilities still undeveloped.
 
It was necessary to tramp the snow down, and drag sleds through it, sideways, and even to roll in it, in order to clear a path which, under the of the runners, should become hard and “slick.”
 
To the tramping and scraping, and rolling Bob lent nothing but his noisy good-will and applause. One would have thought, noting his , that the snow and the boys had come together simply for his entertainment!
 
Finally a track deemed of being tested had been leveled, and the first coast of the season was made, with a of joy, by the other bob in the party—the bob-sled.
 
Farther and farther, each time, went the bob, with the single sleds—all but that of Ned—in the party, bringing up behind. Ned rode on the bob, until the moment when the track should be hard and fit for his low clipper.
 
This was the only drawback to that pride of his heart: it was useless in loose snow, or in ruts.
 
At dark, by of much play which seemed like work, Breede’s Hill was fit for the final polishing, by a hundred and more runners, on the morrow. Ned went home, and Bob went home, and the other boys went home, hungry and well satisfied; and none was more hungry or more satisfied than Bob, who had done the least and fussed the most.
 
“Say—but the hill is getting dandy!” exclaimed Ned, at dinner, Saturday, to which he had come panting and damp and empty.
 
“So you’re tired of that gun, already, are you, Neddie?” remarked his mother, quietly.
 
“My, no!” denied Ned, in alarm. “But the hill’s splendid, anyway. It’s almost slick as glass.”
 
 
 
“The whole town will be there, this afternoon,” he added, a generous mouthful of apple pie.
 
“I won’t be there,” said his mother.
 
“Nor I,” said his father.
 
“Well, all the kids and girls will,” explained Ned; and the of pie disappeared, to fill some mysterious inside. “Shoveling in fuel,” his father termed Ned’s eating during the cold weather; but whether the statement was true or a joke, the reader must judge according to his own experience.
 
That afternoon it really did seem that Ned had not exaggerated. Breede’s Hill was in its glory, and “the whole town” was on hand, with sleds of all descriptions.
 
The track had been packed solid, and in the glancing rays of the sun. Downward sped, with from the girls and wild halloos of warning from the boys, a of figures showing black against the white background; and upward toiled, along either side of the torrent, a of other black figures, to halt, and gather, and turn at the .
 
Bob was there, a privileged character. Not a dog in Beaufort was so widely or favorably known. What fun he found here at a place where he was almost the only one whose legs had to take him down hill as well as up, is a problem. Like a flash Ned on his clipper shot from top to bottom—and skirting the track, with tongue out and with excited , falling farther and farther behind, after him raced Bob, not to catch him until the sled had stopped. Up Ned, hauling his sled, with Bob at last by his heels; and the performance was repeated.
 
At the hill all now was gaiety and glee. The only thing to , ever so slightly, the sport, was the presence of a party from South Beaufort. Eight strong they had arrived, with their bob; and discoloring the snow with tobacco, and swearing freely, they had proceeded to impress the others with their importance.
 
However, beyond elbowing their way about freely, and snow and air, and just as they pleased, they had made no especial trouble, and Ned and the other boys tried to pay no attention to them.
 
By this time two had been worn in the track, and along them rushed, with no needed, the sleds great and small. The street crossings were hair-raising bumps, which caused each sled to leap like a frightened colt. Highest of all bounced Ned on his light clipper, and farthest of all he went, setting a mark which none could touch. Still firm in his faith that some time he would catch him was Bob, madly down, and panting up.
 
At last merely sliding down hill ceased to prove of much interest to the South Beauforters. Trouble was what they wanted; trouble they would have; and the meaner the brand the better it would suit them.
 
 
They began to bully the smaller boys, and to blockade, as though by accident, but really with sly , the steps of the larger. They sent girls’ sleds careening down the slope, and in a hundred ways made themselves a and an .
 
“Come on, Ned, let’s go home,” pleaded little Tennie Loders, who lived near Ned, plucking him by the sleeve. “I’m cold.”
 
“He’s afraid,” Sam Higgs. “That’s what’s the matter with him.”
 
“You run along, Tennie,” said Ned. “But I’m not going to leave till I get good and ready. Nobody’s going to drive me off, you bet.”
 
“Who’s tryin’ to drive you off? Say, kid, who’s tryin’ to drive you off?” Big Mike Farr, who overheard.
 
“I didn’t say anybody was, did I?” returned Ned, .
 
“Well, don’t go shootin’ off your lip ’round here, then,” Big Mike, in an ugly tone. He waited to see if Ned wouldn’t answer back and give him a better chance to force a fight; but Ned never a word, and the South Beauforter slouched back among his fellows, while they laughed loudly.
 
For a brief space the coasting continued without especial incident. However, this was only a , during which the South Beauforters were but their chance. Presently it came.
 
As they artfully lingered around their bob-sled, at the end of the track, they saw Ned, head on, toward them upon his clipper. Just as he reached them they jerked their heavy bob square across his path. There was no time for him to . With a thud he struck broadside the rearmost of the two sleds. The clipp............