- you-are kind of voice, and the little Californian
rose to the occasion gallantly.
"No, I am not. I'm not afraid of anything or anybody—here."
"Come on, then."
Ropes were unhitched from another sled and tied to lengthen that on Michael's, while he and another carefully placed the little passenger upon the "Firefly," bade her "Hold on tight!" and shouted: "Off we are! Let her go, boys, let her go!"
Then began not one hour, but two, of the wildest sport the old square had ever witnessed. The walks traversing it had already been cleared of the snow, but for once there was no restricting "Keep off the grass" visible.
The park was like a great, snowy meadow, across which the four lads darted and pranced, at the risk of many upsets, their own and Josephine's, who accepted the plunges into the banks of snow heaped beside the paths with the same delight she brought to the smoother passages, where the sled fairly flew behind its hilarious "four-in-hands."
