At last the sled was loaded, and covered over with an old rubber horse-blanket which Mr. Woodruff gave to Boxy. The load was strapped on as tightly as possible, and over it was placed the stick Jack had mentioned, the two ends sticking out and downward nearly two feet on either side. “Now we are all ready for the start,” observed Andy, as he surveyed what had been done. “How I wish it were Monday morning, so that we wouldn’t have to wait.” “You mustn’t forget the rides to-night on the _Buster_,” said Harry. “It may be the last time we can use the toboggan this winter.” “Oh, I guess the snow will keep until we get back,” said Andy. “But I am right ready for the sport to-night, nevertheless.” The packed sled was locked up in the barn, and the boys repaired to their various homes for supper. “Well, Harry, all ready?” smiled Mrs. Webb, who took a keen interest in her son’s doings. “All ready, mother,” he returned. “Is supper ready? We are going tobogganing for the last time to-night.” “Yes, you can have supper at once, Harry. But I want some wood brought in first.” “That’s so! I didn’t mean to forget it!” he cried, and, dashing out into the woodshed, which he had piled high with split wood ready for the stove, the boy brought in an armful. “Paul Larkins has promised to bring in wood and do errands for you while I am away,” he said. “So you won’t miss me so very much.” “Yes, I will miss you, Harry,” returned Mrs. Webb, affectionately. “Oh, yes, I know. And I’ll miss you, too,” he replied, throwing his arms about her neck and kissing her. “It will seem awfully queer to be away from home.” “You must take good care of yourself.” “I’ll try to do that, mother.” Harry did not spend much time at the supper table, and, his hasty meal finished, he brought out the _Buster_, and examined the toboggan to see if it was in good trim for the evening’s sport. Little did he dream of the fearful peril a ride on the long, low sled was to bring him and the others. Boxy came over a moment later, and together they dragged the _Buster_ off toward the coasting hills. They had to pass the Bascoe homestead, and here Boxy let out the peculiar whistle of the club for Andy and Jack. “They say the Doublehill course is as smooth as glass,” said Andy, as he came out with a piece of cake in his hand. “Some of the folks don’t dare go down it.” “I’m not afraid,” cried Harry. “Are you?” All of the boys agreed that they were not. Each took hold of the rope, and they soon reached the top of the long double hill, where a bright bonfire was already burning, although it was still almost daylight. “We ought to have a brake of some sort, I suppose,” mused Jack, as he surveyed the shining course, “It does look awfully slippery.” “Oh, go ahead!” put in Boxy, impatiently. “I guess if we tumble off it won’t kill us.”