to
make that our rallying cry!" Mabel was a real "sport."

"I'm not a big leaguer yet," protested Joe. "Don't go too strong on
that. I may be turned back into the bushes."

"Not much danger," commented Charlie, as he thought of the fine work Joe
had done in times past. Joe was a natural born pitcher, but he had
developed his talents by hard work, as my readers know.

Into the sled piled the laughing, happy young folks, and then, snugly
tucked in, the word was given, and, with a merry jingle of bells, away
they went over the white snow.

There were the old-time songs sung, after the party had reached the open
country, and had taken the edge off their exuberance by tooting tin
horns. "Aunt Dinah's Quilting Party," "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,"
"Old Black Joe"--all these, and some other, more modern, songs were
sung, more or less effectively. But, after all, it was the spirit and
not the melody that counted.

On over the snowy road went the big sled, pulled by the willing horses,
who seemed all the more willing because of the joyous party they were
dragging along.

"Look out for this grade-crossing," remarked Joe to the driver, for they
were approaching the railroad.

"I will, Joe," the man replied. "I have good occasion to remember this
place, too."

"So have I," spoke Mabel, in a low voice to her escort. "There is where
we were snowed in; isn't it?" she asked, nodding in the direction of
Deep Rock Cut.

"That's the place," replied Joe.

"Yes, sir, I have occasion to remember this place," went on the driver.
"And I'm always careful when I cross here, ever since, two years ago, I
was nearly run down by a train. I had just such a load of young folks as
I've got now," he went on.

"How did it happen?" asked Reggie, as the runners scraped over the bare
rails, a look up and down the moon-lit track showing no train in sight.

"Well, the party was making quite a racket, and I didn't hear the
whistle of the train," resumed the driver. "It was an extra, and I
didn't count on it. We were on our way home, and we had a pretty narrow
escape. Just got over in time, I tell you. The young folks were pretty
quiet after that, and I was glad it happened on the way home, instead of
going, or it would have spoiled all their fun. And, ever since then,
whether I know there's a train due or not, I'm always careful of this
crossing."

"It makes one feel ever so much safer to have a driver like him," spoke
Mabel to Clara.