Читать книгу The Epic Canadian Expedition - Alice Polk Hill - Страница 7

‘Ha, ha!’ Arthur Lambchop crowed as he skied past his older brother, Stanley. ‘Last one to the bottom is a frozen pancake!’

Stanley grunted as he dug his poles into the snow and strained against the frosty Canadian wind. Ever since he had awakened to find himself flattened by a bulletin board, he’d been putting up with Arthur’s teasing about his shape. He didn’t really mind – Arthur was a good brother: cheerful and loyal and a lot of fun.

And so what if being flat made it nearly impossible to ski? It had some mighty big advantages! For instance, he could now travel by mailing himself anywhere in the world for a fraction of the cost of airfare. And he’d sure had a lot of adventures that would not have been available to a rounder boy!

His shape had been a big help to others, also. Stanley allowed himself a little smile of pride as he flapped another few feet down the slope. Wasn’t his mother wearing her favourite ring because he had been able to slip down into a storm drain to retrieve it? Wasn’t Abraham Lincoln’s nose still in place at Mount Rushmore because he had turned himself into a human Band-Aid?

And right now, weren’t there a couple of museum sneak thieves playing poker in the city jail who were very sorry indeed they’d ever run into a boy flat enough to pose as a painting?

Just then Arthur whizzed by for a second time. ‘See you a-ROUND !’ he shouted.

Stanley struggled even harder against the wind and reminded himself more firmly he should not feel sad. Why, already on this vacation his flatness had been an advantage: Because he could simply bend his legs at the knees, he had not needed to rent skis. With the money this saved, the Lambchop family had enjoyed a hot-chocolate party in the lodge the night before.

Stanley paused to catch his breath. Really . . . so what if he wasn’t aerodynamic any more? The sun was shining on the snowcapped mountains, and the air felt fresh on his cheeks. The scene spread below was straight out of a winter wonderland postcard! Over on the expert trail, daredevils were enjoying the jumps, leaping and twisting in the air. Brightly dressed skiers swooshed by tall, frosted pines.

By the colour of their parkas, Stanley recognised some kids he and Arthur had met the day before. He watched as his brother dashed down to them now, their shouts of greeting drifting up the mountain.

And there, in the middle of the trail, Stanley sank to the snow in defeat.

He couldn’t deny it any more: Lately his flatness had made him feel he just didn’t have much in common with other people. Lately, it had made him feel lonely.

Tears froze on his eyelashes. He brushed them off to watch Arthur and the other kids weave in and out of each other’s paths, gliding gleefully down the mountain. Suddenly, though, Arthur shouted something and broke off from the group. He was heading towards the daredevil skiers!

Stanley scrambled to his feet. ‘No, Arthur!’ he cried. ‘There are jumps!’

Too late! Stanley watched in horror as his brother flew up in the air and then crashed in a pinwheel of skis and poles and flying mittens!

Without a second thought, Stanley angled his body edgewise into the wind, like the blade of a knife. He ripped down the mountain at a terrifying speed, and within seconds he was at his brother’s side.

‘Are you all right?’ Stanley asked. He offered Arthur his hand to help him up.

Just then a boy about Stanley’s age skidded to a stop in a spray of snow beside the brothers. ‘Don’t try to move him!’ he warned. ‘He may have a broken bone. I’ll go to get my father . . . He’s a doctor; he’s on ski patrol today!’ And then, just as suddenly, the boy took off on his snowboard again.

Stanley bent down beside his brother. ‘Does it hurt awfully?’ he asked. ‘Do you want me to go get Mum and Dad?’

Arthur shook his head. ‘Just stay here with me until that fellow’s father comes, all right?’

‘Of course,’ Stanley promised. ‘I won’t leave you.’