The frosty wind smote his face, his breath nearly
failed him, but half-way down he gave a triumphant whoop. When he
reached the foot of the hill he had barely wind enough to get off his
sled and drag it to one side, for Ezra Ray was coming down.
Ezra did not slide as far as Ephraim had done. Ephraim watched
anxiously lest he should. "That sled of yours ain't no good," he
panted, when Ezra had stopped several yards from where he stood.
"Guess it ain't quite so fast as yours," admitted Ezra. "That's your
brother's, ain't it?"
"Yes."
"Well, that sled can't be beat in town. Mine's 'bout as good as any,
'cept that. I've always heard my brother say that your brother's sled
was the best one he ever see."
Ephraim stood looking at his brother's old battered but distinguished
sled as if it had been a blood-horse. "Guess it can't be beat," he
chuckled.
"No sir, it can't," said Ezra. He started off past Ephraim down the
road, with his sled trailing at his heels.
"Hullo!" called Ephraim, "ain't you goin' up again?"
"Can't, got to go home."
"Less try it jest once more, an' see if you can't go further."
"No, I can't, nohow. Mother won't like it as 'tis."
"Whip you?"
"'Spect so; don't mind it if she does." Ezra brought a great show of
courage to balance the other's immunity from danger. "Don't mind
nothin' 'bout a little whippin'," he added, with a brave and
contemptuous air.
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