“I wish you’d broken your skull instead of hitting that snow bank,” he went on.
“I don’t doubt it,” said Rob, serenely; “unfortunately for you, I didn’t.”
“I guess you think you are going to get that cup at the sled carnival, don’t you,” chuckled Bill Bender; “well, you haven’t got a chance.”
“No, you won’t know you’re on earth,” chimed in Lem Lonsdale, viciously.
“Oh, come on, fellows,” urged Freeman Hunt, who had his own reasons for not wishing to linger, “leave the babies alone. They’ve smashed their pretty toy, now let them run home to bed.”
So saying, he turned, and began lugging the long, racy-looking toboggan they had brought with them up the steep, white hill. With a muttered threat about punching heads and “fresh young cubs,” Jack Curtiss and the others followed him.
“Well, I guess we’d better pick up the remains and go home,” said Tubby, dragging out a splintered wing-tip from the snow.
“Hold on a minute,” said Rob, “let’s wait here and see what those fellows can do. I guess they’ve come out here to try that big, new sled.”
Sure enough, a few seconds later there came a loud screech from the top of the hill.
“Here they come,” volunteered Tubby, bending forward.
High up the hill, outlined sharply against the snow, there came rushing toward them a flying object. It seemed to fairly whiz over the frozen surface. Hardly had they sighted it before it flashed past with yells of defiance from its occupants, and vanished into the darkness cast by a clump of big fir trees.
“Well!” exclaimed Rob, “they’ve got a flyer; no mistake about that.”
“It’ll be faster yet when they get those runners rubbed down,” vouchsafed Merritt; “it only came in this afternoon from New York. They got it from a big sporting-goods house.”
“Maybe the same one Jack got his flying machine from,” chuckled Paul, smiling over the remembrance of the bully’s discomfiture on the occasion of the aeroplane model contest, as told in the first volume of this series.
“Shouldn’t wonder,” responded Tubby, in reply to Paul’s observation.
“Where did they get the money from?” wondered Merritt. “That sled must have cost a lot.”
“Oh, Hunt’s father gives him plenty of money,” was Rob’s response, “and the others are not exactly poor. They could easily afford such a sled for the gratification of winning the cup away from us.”