Father Hofer placed the sled carefully and firmly on the platform of snow at the top. Then he seated himself and John got on behind, his arms around his father’s waist and his legs drawn well up out of the way. He had often taken short sled trips with his father down the mountain-side near home, but he had never yet gone down the long slide to the village in the valley. He had often come there to see his father start and had held his breath as he saw him flash down and out of sight under the great rock. Then he and his mother would wait patiently for the father to return, for they did not know until he got back whether or not he had reached the bottom alive. Now they were both going down, and the poor mother stood alone with clasped hands and murmured a prayer as she watched them.