Livingstone had to dodge for his life. Of course, no policeman was in
sight!

Livingstone pushed his way on to the top of the ascent, and a square
further on he found an officer inspecting silently a group of noisy
urchins squabbling over the division of two sticks of painted candy. His
back was towards the hill from which were coming the shouts of the
sliding miscreants.

Livingstone accosted him:

"That sliding, back there, must be stopped. It is a nuisance," he
asserted.--It was dangerous, he declared; he himself had almost been
struck by one or more of those sleds and if it had run him down it might
have killed him.

The officer, after a long look at him, turned silently and walked slowly
in the direction of the hill. He moved so deliberately and with such
evident reluctance that Livingstone's blood boiled. He hurried after
him.

"Here," he said, as he overtook him, "I am going to see that you stop
that sliding and enforce the law, or I shall report you for failure to
perform your duty. I see your number--268."

"All right, sir. You can do as you please about that," said the officer,
rather surlily, but politely.

Livingstone walked close after him to the hilltop. The officer spoke a
few words in a quiet tone to the boys who were at the summit, and