Читать книгу How Hartman Won. A Story of Old Ontario - John Price-Brown - Страница 6

Table of Contents

This was the first regular meeting of the "Pines Toboggan Club." Robert Thornton had been elected captain, partly because he was the owner of a genuine toboggan, but chiefly because he was the originator of the club, and it was mainly through his instrumentality that it had been formed.

The "Pines" was the designation given to an elevated knoll, covered with standing timber, from which there was a steady decline to the river bank. It was situated in near proximity to the road, but clear of the saw-logs skidway, and had been a general resort for the boys for years back, as the scene of their winter pastime. One of the chief attractions was the fact that the slide struck the dam at a bend; and with the momentum given by the long descent, the sleigh, without varying its course, could spin over the frozen surface for a long distance.

With the buzz of merry voices and many a ringing laugh, the young people prepared for their first slide. Each sled was composed of a pair of short bobs, connected together by a plank, with long raves on either side for the feet of the riders to rest upon. Beyond this, there was a considerable variety in the display of taste, with regard to personal comfort as well as facility for steering. As they were getting in line ready to start, the last load of prospective riders arrived from the country; among the number being Hugh Finlayson and his sister.

"You are just in time," called out the captain. "Miss Finlayson, there are seats on the toboggan for you and your brother, as well as Miss Roberts. James, make room for Campbell and Miss Mathers on your sled. There are two yet wanting places."

"Lots of room for the boys on our sled," called out young Cleveland, who, besides having only boys, had the longest and broadest plank in the lot.

"Remember the rule," cried Robert in stentorian tones. He was standing on the brow of the hill—his toboggan being the last to start. "No one leaves until I give the word. That tree is thirty yards down the hill. When the first sled reaches it, I give the word again, and the next one follows in regular order. Remember, too, there is no danger if every steersman understands his business; and I believe every one here does."

"Ay, ay, captain! We're ready," shouted one and all. A moment's pause, and—

"One, two, three, and off," came the order, and with a cheer away glided the sled, swift and straight like an arrow. In another moment it shot past the tree.

"Off," again cried the captain, and another followed in quick pursuit, and the next was waiting for the signal. But the wait was only for the moment. Again and yet again was the signal given in regular sequence. It was evident that Robert knew what he was about. In his brief college life, he had himself been a leader where toboggans and not sleds were used. As the eighth and last, his own toboggan, drew up, he took his place.

"We're off, too," he said to Miss Finlayson, who sat immediately behind him, and away they sped.

It was a beautiful sight. Above, the deep blue heavens, dotted with innumerable stars; the full moon shining down through the still air in all her brilliancy; the earth clothed with its pure white mantle, and the hill-sides of the river valley shaded with woodland; while the tin spire of the village church glistened in the moonlight, as it pointed upward toward the home of that Father who was the giver of all beauty and all truth.

Then there was the charm, intensely human in its nature. The little barks gliding noiselessly and swiftly one after the other with regular rhythm, and charged almost to their utmost with the joyous laughing revellers.

For more than a hundred feet the grade was regular and smooth; then it became undulating, descending abruptly for a short distance, then on the level and ascending a knoll; down again for another hundred feet, along the level once more, and down the bank and away along the river.

The snow had been cleared from the ice for a hundred yards or more, and the force of descent was so great that the sledges, one after another, drew up near the very terminus.

"What glorious fun!"

"How it takes one's breath away!"

"Oh! How jolly!" were the screaming exclamations, as they rolled and jumped off the sleighs, each giving vent to feelings suppressed during the minute or two which had so excitingly passed since leaving the starting-point.

"It's awful dangerous!" gasped one young girl, who, white as a sheet, declared that this was the first and last time she would "ever slide on one o' them things."

"That's all fudge," exclaimed her elder sister. "It ain't a bit dangerous. You've got to ride again, or else sit by your lonesome till it's all over."

And, finally, of the two evils she chose the former.

"How do you enjoy it, Miss Finlayson?" Robert asked, as he handed her off.

"It's splendid fun," was her laughing answer; "but it's a new experience. You can hardly breathe at first, the descent is so fast. Then you feel so exhilarated that you almost wish the ride would never end."

"And suddenly mundane experience brings you to a full stop," exclaimed the platonic Miss Roberts. "One minute to fly down the hill, and five to climb up."

"Never mind, girls," cried out Miss Mathers. "We've got the best of it. Let us lead the way, while the boys pull up the sleds."

Miss Mathers was the lady teacher in the village school, and in some sense Miss Finlayson's rival.

"Well, let's have a race for the top," cried Cleveland of the long bob. "The boys against the girls."

"All right, away we go," called out the captain, and there was a general stampede. Along the flat over the ice it was pretty equal running. The weight of the sleighs was as nothing to drag over the frozen surface of the river, while the garments of the girls somewhat impeded their progress. Still they fled like deer, and amid screams of laughter commenced to climb the hill. Here they had the advantage. Most of their well-shod feet were protected by rubber soles which refused to slip on the ice, while the men had the usual tendency to slip half as much backward as they went forward, and the heavy uphill tug upon the sleds did its full share in slowing their speed.

By the time the girls had mounted the first level, it became evident that they would be the victors; and Thornton, wisely calling a halt, announced that the boys would give in.

"That's what they always do," was the ringing answer from above.

When they reached the top, a new arrival awaited them. There stood Mr. Pettigrew.

"You came after all, Thomas. Glad to see you," exclaimed Robert. "I think there is room on the long sleigh. If not you might squeeze in with us."

"There is room on our sled for Mr. Pettigrew," cried Miss Mathers.

"Lots of room here," shouted Cleveland.

"Thanks, awfully. I must accept Miss Mathers' offer. In my heart I could never refuse a lady," was the smiling answer.

A general laugh and one or two wild hoots followed; and in another minute they were ready to start again.

So the time passed, and as ten o'clock approached they had gathered together on the summit ready for the signal for the last run.

On each trip the Cleveland bobs had drawn nearer and nearer to the margin of a ravine lying to the left, and perhaps half-way down the slope. In the last trip it seemed on the verge of going over; and one or two of the riders now refused to try it again, without the owner would promise to keep clear of the danger.

"You run too much risk, Cleveland," said Thornton. "That's a dangerous gully. You don't want to smash your heads on the logs at the bottom."

"There's no danger at all," replied Cleveland, with a toss of his head. "I guess I know how to steer. I've gone over that there slide hunderds o' times, and I never touched the gully yet."

"Still, you've no right to risk other people's lives."

"Well, cap'n, I've carried seven fellows on my sled nearly every time. If any one of 'em is chicken-hearted and skeered, he can stay behind, that's all."

None of them, however, chose to show the white feather; and as Cleveland promised not to run too close to the ravine, they all returned to his sleigh. His was the last but one to start, immediately preceding Thornton's toboggan. He appeared to be steering all right, although still rather close to the dreaded gulch, when, just as the toboggan was leaving, the air was rent with a wild shout and they witnessed the half-expected catastrophe. The sled had gone over the embankment; and as Thornton's party shot past, they saw it turn over in its descent, throwing all upon it headlong into the snow and débris below.

"Don't move," said Robert quickly to those on the toboggan, fearing lest any rash act might result from the sudden excitement; and then to Hugh, who was steering—"but go right on to the flats. I'll drop off and see what has happened."

At the first knoll he rolled over into the snow, and then scrambled up the hill to the scene of the accident. There the full moon playing directly downwards revealed more of the ludicrous than the alarming. The chasm seemed to be a sort of wash-out water-course to the river, striking the side of the slideway almost at a right angle. It was filled with logs and saplings and brushwood; but owing to the bald nature of the hill above, and the belt of trees on the side, the drifting snow had filled the upper part of the chasm to the depth of many feet, and so saved the sliders from any very serious injury. Into it the young men had pitched pell-mell, two or three receiving pretty sharp bruises on the legs. One had been stunned for a moment and the skin peeled from his scalp as his head grazed a sapling. Others were almost buried in the snow; while Cleveland, in making a wild leap for safety, had his feet caught, throwing him headlong, and was sprawling heels upwards, his head and body lodged between two logs. Both legs were squirming in view, and his comrades were making an effort to release him, when Robert appeared.

"Cleveland is stuck, and we can't get him out," someone shouted.

"He's alive, though; see him kick," exclaimed another, who had been one of the objectors, and did not feel pleasantly disposed toward the supposed offender, even if he was hurt.

The depth of the snow made it difficult to get through it; but in a few moments Robert was able to realise the situation.

"Get me out," cried Cleveland. "Oh! Mind my arm!"

"Come, boys, we must lift the log. Tait, you hold him still while we raise it."

"But we can't, it's frozen," objected someone.

"We must try. Now, all together!" But it wouldn't budge.

"Oh! there's a rail. Shove it under. Now lift again."

This time they were successful, and Cleveland was limp enough when they got him out.

It was evident that he was seriously hurt, and the faces of all became more grave.

"My left arm's the worst," he groaned. "I believe it's broken."

They soon had him on his feet, however, and finding that he could walk, helped him up the hill, his arm hanging by his side, as he could not bear to have it touched.

"Won't someone go for the doctor?" he asked, as they seated him upon one of the sleds, which by this time had been dragged to the top, the whole party having gathered round him. A dozen offered to go.

"It would be no use," said Robert. "Dr. Hartman intended to come to the slide to-night; but was called out on the 14th Concession.[A] He told me he couldn't possibly be here before half-past ten."

[A] I.e., 14th Concession Road.

"What time is it now?"

"Just ten minutes after."

"He will probably pass here," said Miss Finlayson. "I heard he was to visit old Mrs. Sanderson near our place to-night. She is very low."

Robert looked at her for a moment.

"It would be better, perhaps, to make Cleveland as comfortable as we can where he is, and wait for the doctor's arrival," he said. "He can probably take him home in his cutter if he comes soon."

Turning to the young man, he went on—

"Let me bend your arm a little more and lay it on your knee. It will be more comfortable; there."

"Yes, that's easier," he replied. An extra wrap was put over his shoulders, and he blubbered out—"I hope you folks didn't think I was such a durned idgiot as to do that on purpose. The hickory bolt in the front bob broke, and swung the whole thing round into the hole, and that's how it happened. I'm glad none of the other fellows was hurt much, being as it was my bob."

"Cleve, you are a brick anyway! We knew you couldn't help it," called out one of the boys, and a chorus of approval was echoed by the group.

"I hear the doctor's bells," exclaimed Robert, and immediately a couple of young men ran over to the road to secure his services. One of them held his horse, while the other told the story as they walked back to the slide.

Dr. Hartman's voice had a cheery ring as he greeted the sorry revellers. He made light of the accident, and spoke of it as one of the things that might happen any time, and could not be helped.

"It'll be a holiday time for you, though, Cleveland," he commented, after examining the arm. "No more saw-logs for a while, nor bobs either."

"What's the matter?" exclaimed the lad, with a quiver on his lip. "Is it broken?"

"Yes; it's what they call a Colles' fracture, one bone being broken above the wrist and the other out of joint."

"I'm a daisy!"

"Yes, one that blooms in the winter," called out one of the boys.

"You won't go to seed, though," rejoined the doctor. "It will take time, but you'll come out all right. Are you hurt anywhere else besides that bruise on your face?"

"Not much, I guess, but it was a tight squeeze between them logs, and when my arm snapped the pain was awful."

"Well, you can walk over with me to my cutter; then I will drive you home and set it there. This will hold it in the meantime."

As he spoke he took a white woollen scarf from his own neck, and adjusted it round the boy's arm and over his shoulder, to support the injured limb during the journey.

All followed in a group to the cutter, and watched the doctor and his patient as they drove away along the village street.

"It's unlucky to have such a bad omen at the start," said Robert, almost with a sigh, for it was only by an effort that he had retained the buoyancy of his spirits during the evening.

"The old proverb says, 'Troubles never come singly,'" put in Mr. Pettigrew.

Robert glanced sharply at him, but made no reply.

"'The exception establishes the rule,' is a better proverb," said Miss Finlayson.

"That's right," exclaimed Miss Roberts, "but it's a pity to have the exception at all. When do we meet again, Mr. Thornton?"

"Say next Monday evening, if Cleveland gets along all right, and under the doctor's care of course he will."

The double announcement met with general assent, and the band dispersed.

For a moment or two Pettigrew remained in the background; then he joined Miss Mathers. This was not, however, until Thornton had led the way, accompanied by Miss Finlayson, Hugh having gone to the driving-shed for his sleigh.

"We can meet your brother as he drives over," said Robert.

"Yes," she replied, "a brisk walk for a few minutes will be pleasant after standing so long."

"You don't feel cold in this sharp air, I hope," he said, in some solicitude.

"Oh no, I am well wrapped. My furs keep me warm."

"It was very good of you to come," he said, "particularly after the fatigues of the school. Hugh tells me that one or two of the boys are very troublesome."

"I wish Hugh would mind his own business," she returned, with a light laugh. "'Very' is too strong a term. They are not any worse than they have been for some time. Still, they are bad enough, and I do not intend to stand it much longer."

"What do you think of doing, Winifred?" he asked. He never called her by her Christian name except when they were alone. They had known each other from childhood. "Will you call in the trustees?"

"Not if I can help it," she replied. "My position will be much stronger if I can keep control without any outside help, and I mean to try."

"You are a brave girl."

"I wish I always felt like one," she answered, pressing her lips together.

At this moment Hugh drove up. Robert tucked the ample folds of the buffalo robe around her, and bade them good-night. He stood still for some moments, watching the sleigh as it gradually disappeared in the distance. Then he turned, and walked moodily toward his own home, thinking of the accident, Winifred's school troubles, and, worst of all, the business difficulties that had yet to be dealt with that night.