Where the snow lies deep o'er their winter sleep,
Up, up the big hill we go.

"And stumbling, tumbling, stumbling,
Hurrah! 'tis the top we gain!
Draw breath for a minute before you begin it--
Now over, and over again!"

"How are you, noble Hetman?" said Hildegarde, finding herself near
Gerald, as they gained the top of the hill. "Aren't you all full of
snow, my poors, and very cold and wet?"

"'Oh, days of me boyhood, I'm dreamin' of ye now!'" quoted Gerald. "I
never thought that my mother's words would come true in my person:

"'Woffsky-poffsky, Woffsky-poffsky,
Once he was a Cossack hetman;
But he fell into the Dnieper,
And became a Cossack wetman.'

"And to speak sooth, sweet chuck, there may be a matter of half a bushel
of snow--if you measure it by bushels,--it's a matter of fancy--down my
manly back at this moment."

"Oh, Gerald! But do go home, my dear, and change your things! You will
get your death of cold, if you go about in this state."

"I'll move into the adjoining territory at once!" said Gerald. "But calm
yourself, angelic being! Consider that in this manner I avoid all danger
of sunstroke! Every man his own refrigerator; patent applied for; no
Irish need apply."

"What is the use of talking to people like this!" cried Hildegarde.
"Jack, are you as wet as that? Because if you are,--"

"As wet as what?" said Jack. "I am not, anyhow, if you are going to
look at me in that way. Just wet enough to cool me off delightfully;
very sultry to-day, don't you think so?"

"Mr. Merryweather," cried Hildegarde. "Will you use your authority,
please, and try to get some sense out of these boys? They are both wet
through to the skin, and they will not--"

"Wet, are they?" said the Chief, cheerily. "Best thing in the world for
'em, my dear! Quicken the circulation, and keep the pores open. Now
then, boys and girls, we must pack closer this time. Sit close, Kitty!
Hilda, hold tight, my dear! All ready? Now, one, two, three, and off we
go!"

And off they went.

CHAPTER XIV.

BELLEROPHON.

"ALL ready, boys?" asked the Colonel.

"All ready!" responded the boys, namely, Raymond Ferrers, aged sixty,
Jack Ferrers, aged twenty, and Hugh Allen, aged nine. Barring more or
less difference in height, and a trifle of gray hair in one case, they
all appeared of much the same age; nor had the Colonel,