There was mischief in the air as Bill at once knew. He climbed over the seat and waited. “Hold fast, Harry,” said Tom. “These horses are going to run away.” “Oh, let me out,” cried Harry. “No, hold on, and keep quiet.” “What fun!” cried Bill. “We are to have a ride all to ourselves.” “Do you whack the horses, Bill. They’ll go. Wait a moment.” He gave one last look around him and ahead. Beyond the picket the road ran straight for a mile. He had his moment of final hesitation, but it was soon over. No one was in sight near by, and his eyes roamed over the trackless vacancy of snow-clad spaces into which the highway disappeared. “Are you ready, Bill?” he said, handing him the whip. “All right,” said Bill, seeing desirable mischief ahead and enjoying the prospect. Harry was less eager, but, ashamed to confess his fears, said bravely, “Well, Tom, hurry up.” “Now,” said Tom, “do you, Bill, hit the horses with the whip, not too hard. They’ll go.” They did go, for Bill, enchanted, had to be stopped. In an instant they were off and away at a mad gallop over a much-used road. “By George!” roared the Colonel. “The horses have run away!” The soldiers shouted, the picket ran down to the road, too late, and furious at this unwonted treatment the horses ran. A mile or more went by before the heavy snowdrifts of a less-used road lessened their speed. On a hillcrest Tom stood up and looked back. “Guess we are safe, boys,” he said. “It’s good there were no horses about.” As the sleigh moved more slowly at a trot, Bill said, “It was a first-class runaway!” and Harry, reassured, asked if it wasn’t time for lunch. Tom said no, and kept his eye on the road, which by one o’clock became hard for the horses, as the drifts were heavier. At last he pulled up for luncheon and to rest the team. As the twins were now pretty cold Tom got out the fur coats. “There are only two,” said Harry. “Oh, I’ll fix that,” said Tom. And this was his way: he threw the heavy sable coat over the boys’ shoulders, and while Harry put his right hand into the right sleeve Bill put his left hand into the left sleeve. When Tom had them buttoned up, the two red faces being close together in the middle, he called them a double-headed bear and roared with laughter as he himself put on the Colonel’s coat. “Won’t he say things!” said Bill, and they went on, but now only at a walk. Harry did not like it, but, ashamed to confess his fears, kept quiet.