"I heard you was awful sick," said Ezra.
"I was; but the doctor give me some medicine that cured me."
Ephraim placed his sled in position and got on stiffly. The other boy
still watched. "She know you're out to-night?" he inquired, abruptly.
Ephraim looked up at him. "S'pose you think you'll go an' tell her,
if she don't," said he.
"No, I won't, honest."
"Hope to die if you do?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, I run out of the side door."
"Both on 'em asleep?"
Ephraim nodded.
Ezra Ray whistled. "You'll get a whippin' when your mother finds it
out."
"No, I sha'n't. Mother can't whip me, because the doctor says it
ain't good for me. You goin' down?"
"Can't go down but once. I've got to go home, or mother 'll give it
to me."
"Does she ever whip you?"
"Sometimes."
"Mine don't," said Ephraim, and he felt a superiority over Ezra Ray.
He thought, too, that his sled was a better one. It was not painted,
nor was it as new as Ezra's, but it had a reputation. Barney had won
many coasting laurels with it in his boyhood, and his little brother,
who had never used it himself, had always looked upon it with
unbounded faith and admiration.
He gathered up his sled-rope, spurred himself into a start with his
heels, and went swiftly down the long hill, gathering speed as he
went. Poor Ephraim had an instinct for steering; he did not swerve
from the track.
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