The long, low sleds were out by the dozens, and Jack Bascoe, who was steering the _Buster_ as best he could, had a difficult time of it, keeping clear of dangerous collisions. “By jingo! but this is fine!” cried Andy Bascoe, Jack’s younger brother. “Who would want better sport than this?” “You’re right, it’s fine!” returned Boxy Woodruff, the most light-hearted boy in Rudskill. “A fellow would like to keep sailing like this forever, eh? Just spread out your arms and--wow!” Boxy’s imitation of flying came to a sudden stop as the toboggan shot over a little hill and came down with a thump on the other side. He was thrown a bit to one side, and only saved himself by grasping Jack Bascoe around the middle with both arms. “Hold on, Boxy!” cried Jack, a little alarmed. “That’s what I’m doing,” returned Boxy. “I feel you,” said Jack, grimly. “But don’t pull me off, please. I’ve got to keep my eyes open for the other toboggans and sleds, you know.” “I’m all right now, and I’ll do my flying act some other time,” returned Boxy. “Here comes the _Whistler_!” cried Harry. “We ought to be able to beat Pete Sully’s toboggan.” “Of course!” added Andy. “Everybody push!” put in Boxy, in a dry way that made them all laugh. “Maybe you would like me to get off and help pull,” he added, in mock seriousness. As they were going at a speed little less than a mile a minute down the long hill, the others laughed louder than ever. The _Whistler_, with Pete Sully, the bully of the town, and several of his chums, was creeping up by their side. It was a brand-new toboggan, and slid along as though greased. “You fellows ain’t in it any more!” shouted Sully to Harry, as he came within speaking distance. “Here’s where we leave you away behind!” “You’ve got more weight!” returned Harry. “Give me the same weight, and the _Buster_ will walk away from you with ease.” “I’ll bet you a dollar you can’t!” shouted Sully. “I haven’t got a dollar to bet, Pete,” replied Harry, and he told the truth, for, although he owned the _Buster_, Harry Webb was poor, and had not known what it was to own a dollar for several years, ever since his father had lost his money in an unfortunate real estate speculation. “Oh, you’re afraid to bet,” cried Sully, mockingly. “Good-by, slow boots!” “I’ll bet my pocket-knife against yours we can beat you!” said Harry, considerably nettled by Sully’s taunts. “We will take the same number aboard and try our skill.” “Done!” yelled Sully, for he was now several rods ahead. Down the last of the second hill and along the level road shot the _Buster_, and presently came to a standstill just where the Rudskill turnpike branched off across the railroad tracks. The _Whistler_ had gone on a couple of hundred feet farther up the side of the tracks. “Told you we’d beat you!” exclaimed Pete Sully, as he and his chums joined Harry and his friends. “You had better not bet your pocket-knife unless you want to lose it.”