The Adventures of Bobby Orde Part 27

"My," said he to Amanda, scurrying back to the new-lighted fire, "it's only four above!"

This information he proffered with an air of pride to each member of the family as he or she appeared. Bobby took a personal satisfaction in the coldness of the weather, as though he had ordered it himself.

In the meantime he watched Martin from the window. Shortly the munic.i.p.al snow-plow pa.s.sed, throwing the snow to right and left, its one horse plodding patiently along the sidewalk, its driver humped over, smoking his pipe. One of Bobby's ambitions used to be to drive the munic.i.p.al snow-plow when he grew up.

After breakfast, in the customary sequence of events, came lessons. They naturally seemed interminable, and indeed, lasted much longer than usual, because Bobby was unable to give his whole mind to the task. At last they were over. Under Mrs. Orde's supervision Bobby donned (a) heavy knit, woollen leggings that drew on over his shoes and pinned to his trousers above the knee; (b) fleece-lined arctic overshoes; (c) a short, thick, cloth jacket; (d) a long knit tippet that went twice around his neck, crossed on his chest, again at the small of his back, pa.s.sed around his waist, and tied in front; (e) a pair of red knit mittens; (f) a ta.s.selled knit cap that pulled down over his ears. Thus equipped, snow- and cold-proof, he pa.s.sed through the refrigerator-like storm porch, and stood on the front steps.

The sun was up and before him the facets of the snow sparkled like millions and millions of tiny diamonds. Across it the shadows of the trees lay blue. In Bobby's nostrils the crisp air nipped delightfully just short of pain.

What did Bobby do first? Waded, to be sure. He found the deepest drift, augmented somewhat by Martin's shovel, and wallowed laboriously and happily through it. Twice he was unable to extricate his foot in time to prevent a glorious tumble from which he arose covered from crown to toe with the powdery crystals. The temperature was so low that they did not melt, although just inside the tops of the arctics thin bands of snow packed tight. These Bobby occasionally removed with his forefinger.

Bobby waded happily. On either side the broad walk were tall mounds of the snow that Martin had shovelled aside. Bobby found these waist-deep.

The lawn itself was only knee-deep, but it offered a beautiful smooth surface. Duke appeared about this time and frisked back and forth madly, his forefeet extended, his chest to the earth, his face illuminated with a joyous doggy grin. He would run directly at Bobby, as though to collide with him, swerve at the last moment and go tearing away in circles, his hind-legs tucked well under him. The smooth white surface of the lawn became sadly marred. Bobby was vexed at this and uttered fierce commands to which Duke paid not the slightest attention. The little boy made patterns in which he stepped conscientiously, pretending he could not "get off the track." Of course he tried to make s...o...b..a.l.l.s, but tossed from him in disgust the feather-light result.

"No packing," said he.

About this time Martin reappeared, after his own breakfast, to finish cleaning the walks. Bobby begged the fire shovel and a.s.sisted.

When lunch time came Bobby entered the storm-porch and stood patiently while he was brushed off. The entrance to the warm air inside promptly turned the crystals still adhering to the interstices of the knit garments into glittering drops of water. Bobby made tiny little puddles where he disrobed--to his delight and Amanda's disgust. The damp clothes were hung to dry behind the kitchen stove, and Bobby sat down to a tremendous lunch.

After lunch Bobby went out-doors again, but the novelty had worn off and his main thought was one of impatience for three o'clock to release his friends from school. The snow was not yet packed well enough to make the sleighing very good, but everybody in town was out. Cutters, their thills to one side so the driver could see past the horse; two-seated higher sleighs; the gorgeous plumed and luxurious conveyances of the elite--all these streamed by, packing the street every moment into a better and better surface.

And then, before Bobby had realized it could be so late, a first, faint, long-drawn and peculiar shout began far away; grew steadily in volume.

Bobby ran out to the middle of the road.

This street began at the top of a low, long hill eight blocks above the Orde place and ended three blocks below. Coming toward him rapidly Bobby saw a long dark object from which the sound issued. In a moment, slowing every foot because of the level ground and the still heavy snow surface of the road-bed, it pa.s.sed him. He saw a ten-foot pair of bobs laden with children seated astraddle the board. Each child held up the legs of the one behind. In front, the steersman, his feet braced against the cross-pieces, guided by means of ropes leading to the points of the leading sled. At the rear the "pusher off" half reclined, graceful and nonchalant. With the exception of the steersman, who was too busy, each had his mouth wide open and was expirating in one long-drawn continuous vowel-sound. This vowel-sound was originally the first part of the word "out." It had long since become conventionalized, but still served its purpose as a warning.

Slower and slower crept the bobs. The pa.s.sengers ceased yelling and began to move their bodies back and forth in jerks, as does the c.o.xwain of a racing sh.e.l.l. Even after the bobs had come to a complete standstill, they sat a moment on the off-chance of another inch of gain.

Then all at once the compact missile disintegrated. The steersman made a mark in the snow at the side to show how far they had gone. Three seized the ropes and began to drag the bobs back toward the hill. The rest fell in, trudging behind.

But already from the group at the top, confused by distance, other swift black objects at s.p.a.ced intervals had detached and came hurtling down.

Some of them were bob-sleds; others hand-sleds carrying but a single pa.s.senger. Bobby stood by the gate post watching them. Each pair of bobs made its best on distance, trying for the record of the "farthest down."

Although the temptation must have been great, n.o.body cheated by so much as the smallest push.

Bobby owned a sled on which he used to coast. It reposed now in the barn. He wanted very much to slide down hill, but he left the sled in its resting place. Why? Because already Bobby had grown into big boy's estate. He knew his sled would arouse derision and contempt. It had flat runners! And it curved far up in front! And it was built on a skeleton framework! What Bobby wanted, if he were to join the coasting world at all, was a long, low, solid, rakish-built affair with round "spring runners." Even "three-quarters" would not do for his present ideas.

By now the hill was alive. A steady succession of arrow-like flights was balanced by the slow upward crawlings, on either side, of dozens returning afoot. The mark set by the first bobs had been pa.s.sed and pa.s.sed again. New records became a matter of inches.

At last Bobby saw bearing down on him a magnificent bobs that had not before appeared. It was gliding evenly where others usually began to slow up. Its board was twelve feet long. Foot-rails obviated the necessity of holding legs. Its sleds were long and substantial and evidently built solely as bob-sleds and not, as most, to be detached and used for hand sleds as well. The eight occupants began to "jounce" when opposite the Orde place, and Bobby saw with admiration that this was a "spring bobs." That is to say: the board connecting the sleds was not of rigid pine, like the others, but of hickory which bent like a buck-board. When the occupants "jounced," the spring of this board naturally helped the bobs to keep going for some distance after it would ordinarily have come to a stand-still.

This scientific bobs easily excelled all previous records. Its steersman made a triumphant mark, a full half-block beyond the farthest. So lost in admiration of the vehicle had Bobby been that he had failed even to glance at its occupants. Now as they returned, dragging the bobs after them, he recognized in the steersman Carter Irvine, and in the others the rest of his intimate friends. At the same instant they recognized him and greeted him with a shout.

"Come on slide!" they called.

Bobby joyously laid hand on the steer-rope and began to help up the hill.

The centre of the street was entirely given over to the coasters darting down. On either side those ascending toiled, helped occasionally by the good-natured driver of a cutter or delivery sleigh. Then the steer-ropes were pa.s.sed around a runner support of the cutter and held by the steersman who perched on the front of the bobs. Thus if the bobs upset, or the horse went too fast, he could detach the bobs from the cutter by the simple expedient of letting go the rope. All the others immediately piled on to get the benefit of the ride. Some preferred to stand atop the cutter's runners. It lent a pleasant sensation of a sort of supernatural gliding, this standing, upright and motionless, but nevertheless moving forward at a good rate of speed. Certain drivers refused, however, to allow these liberties, but scowled blackly when addressed by the usual cheerful "Give us a ride, Mister?" To catch surrept.i.tious rides with them was considered a desirable feat. Certain daring youngsters stole up behind and crouched low against the runners.

Occasionally they escaped detection, but generally tasted the sting of the whip-lash as it curled viciously backward. Then arose from the whole hill the derisive cry of "whip behind!"

At the top Bobby found a large crowd awaiting its turn. Some he knew, others were strangers to him. All cla.s.ses were represented, rich and poor, rough and gentle. To one side the girls and smallest boys were sliding decorously a hundred feet or so down the deeper snow of the gutter. They sat facing forward on high framework sleds with flat runners, one foot on either side. Whenever the sled showed indications of speed, the feet were used as brakes. The little girls were dressed very warmly in leggings, arctics, flannel petticoats and heavy dresses, and wore tied close about their heads knit or fuzzy gray hoods that framed their red cheeks bewitchingly. Bobby had always coasted in this manner, but now he looked on them with a sort of pitying contempt.

The main group stood waiting. New-comers fell in behind so that some rough semblance of rotation was maintained. The bobs' crews settled themselves with the deftness of long practice. Then bending to his task the pusher at the rear dug his toes in, while the others hunched. With a creak the runners gave way their hold on the frozen snow; the bobs began slowly to move. As momentum and the downward curve of the hill exerted their influence, the pusher found his task easier and easier.

His then the nice decision as to just how long to continue to push. To jump on too soon was a disgrace; to delay too long was a certainty of rolling over and over in the snow while your bobs went on without you.

The artistic pusher came aboard gracefully, with a flying, forward leap, at the precise moment when the equilibrium of forces permitted him to alight as softly as a thistledown. The bobs shot away in a whirl of snow-dust.

Immediately stepped forth a tall, gawky youth clad in dull brown, faded garments, without mittens, without overshoes, his hands purple, but with a long, low, narrow sled as tall as himself. His left hand clasped the front, his right hand the back. The sled slanted across his body. A dozen swift steps he ran forward flung the sled headlong with a smack against the road and followed lightly to the little deck. There he crouched, reclining on his left forearm, his left thigh doubled under him, his head thrust forward, his right leg extended. A magnificent start! So perfect was his balance that the merest touch of his right toe to one side or the other sufficed for steering. In an instant he shot close to the bobs ahead.

"Out! out! out! out!" he cried in a sharp stacatto--very different from the general long-drawn out warning.

The bobs swerved and he darted by with lofty and oblivious superiority.

In the meantime another boy had stepped forward carrying his sled directly in front of him, a hand on either side. He, too, ran forward, but cast himself and sled with a mighty crash into the road. He disappeared lying flat on his stomach, his hands grasping each a projecting runner, his legs spread wide apart.

"Belly flop!" remarked the steersman of the next bobs, waiting. No great speed was possible by this antiquated method, so it was necessary to give the despised belly-flopper a good start.

Among those whose turns did not come soon was great rivalry in the matter of sled-runners. Flat bands were negligible and a.s.signed to girls, quarter-rounds and half-rounds were somewhat but not much better, although several orthodox-shaped sleds were fitted with them. As between three-quarters and full-round spring runners, however, was room for argument, and endless and partisan discussion obtained. This was a matter of opinion. A question of comparison was the relative wear and brightness of the metals. This must be caused by use only. The employment of sandpaper would be to your small boy what--well, what dynamiting trout would be to your fly-fisherman.

The twilight and the frost were already descending. Soon the lamp-lighter with his torch and his little ladder came nimbly down the street. On the down trip Bobby found his mother waiting by the gate, a heavy shawl thrown over her head and shoulders. In the darkness, and after the cold, pale moon had climbed the heavens, the hill continued thronged. About eight o'clock many of the younger grown-ups arrived. But Bobby had to go to bed, and he fell asleep with s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation, the shriek of runners and the weird ululation of warning ringing in his ears.

XVIII

CHRISTMAS

Within a week of Christmas Bobby suddenly awoke to the fact that he must go shopping. He found that in ready money he possessed just one dollar and sixty-two cents; the rest he banked at interest with his father.

With this amount he would have to purchase gifts for the four of his immediate household, Celia and Mr. Kincaid, of course. Besides them he would have liked to get something for Auntie Kate, and possibly Johnnie and Carter.

Down town, whither he was allowed to trudge one morning after lessons, he found bright and gay with the holiday spirit. Every shop window had its holly and red ribbon; and most proper glittering window displays appropriate to the season. In front of the grocery stores, stacked up against the edges of the sidewalks, were rows and rows of Christmas trees, their branches tied up primly, awaiting purchasers. The sidewalks were crowded with people, hurrying in and out of the shops, their lips smiling but their eyes preoccupied. Cutters, sleighs, delivery wagons on runners, dashed up and down the street to a continued merry jingling of bells. Slower farmers on st.u.r.dy sled runners crept back and forth. A jolly sun peeked down between the tall buildings. The air was crisp as frost-ice.

Bobby wandered down one side the street and back the other, enjoying hugely the varied scene, stopping to look with a child's sense of fascination into even the hat-store windows. He made his purchases circ.u.mspectly, and not all on the same day. Only after much hunting of five- and ten-cent departments, much investigation of relative merits, did he come to his decision. Then, his mind at rest, he retired to his own room where he did up extraordinarily clumsy packages with white string, and laid them away in the bottom of his bureau drawer.

Three days before Christmas the tree was delivered. Martin and Mr. Orde installed it in the parlour. First they brought in a wash-tub, then from its resting place since last year, they hunted out its wooden cover with the hole in the top. Through the hole the b.u.t.t of the tree was thrust; and there it was solid as a church! It was a very nice tree, and its topmost finger just brushed the ceiling.

Now Bobby had new occupation which kept him so busy that he had no more time for coasting. Grandma Orde gave him a spool of stout linen thread, a thimble, and a long needle with a big eye. Bobby, a pan of cranberries between his knees, threaded the pretty red spheres in long strings. He liked to pierce their flesh with the needle, and then to draw them down the long thread, like beads. The juice of them dyed the thread crimson, as indeed it also stained Bobby's finger and anything they happened subsequently to touch. As each long string was completed, Bobby went into the chilly parlour and reverently festooned it from branch to branch of the tree. It was astonis.h.i.+ng what a festive air the red imparted to the sombre green. When finally the pan was emptied of cranberries, it was replenished with popcorn. Bobby unhooked the long-handled wire popper from its nail in the back entry and set to work over the open fire. It was great fun to hear the corn explode; and great fun to keep it shaking and turning until the wire cage was filled to its capacity with this indoor snow. Once Bobby neglected to fasten the top securely, and the first miniature explosion blew it open so that the popcorn deluged into the fire. When the last little cannon--for so Bobby always imagined them--had uttered its belated voice, Bobby knocked loose the fastening and poured the white, beautiful corn into the pan. Always were some kernels which had refused to expand. "Old Maids," Bobby called them.

This popcorn, too, was to be strung by needle and thread. It was a difficult task. The corn was apt to split, or to prove impervious to the needle. However, the strings were wonderful, like giant snowdrops shackled together to do honour to the spirit of Christmas. Bobby hung them also on the branches of the tree. His part of the celebration was finished.

Mrs. Orde believed that Christmas excitement should have a full day in which to expend itself; so Christmas eve offered nothing except a throbbing antic.i.p.ation. One old custom, however, was observed as usual.

After supper Mr. Orde seated himself in front of the fire.

"Get the book, Bobby," said he.

Bobby had the book all ready. It was a very thin wide book, printed entirely on linen, in bright colours, and was somewhat cracked and ragged, as though it had seen much service. Bobby presented this to his father and climbed on his knee. Mr. Orde opened the book and began to read that one verse of all verses replete to childhood with the very essence of this children's season:

"_'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.