THE SKATING RACE
“Look at that!” cried Jack.
“See it go!” shouted Bert.
“How did it happen to get away?” the ever-questioning George wanted to
know.
“By Jove!” murmured Bruce. “He’d ask questions if it was the end of the
world. He’d want to know why it hadn’t happened before.”
“Wow!” came from Tom, as he started after the disappearing iceboat.
“That’s bad! I’m responsible for it.” He started off on a run, as though
he could catch the skimming craft.
“You’ll never get her!” yelled Bruce to him. He had taken off his
skates, and hurried up beside Tom.
“I’ve got to get her!” cried our hero. “She may run against the bank and
go to smash.”
“You can’t stop her. She’s too far off. Look at her veer! She’ll capsize
in another minute!”
Indeed the unguided craft was slewing about, making quick turns and big
circles as the wind blew her. Then Tom cried out:
“I’m going to catch her. Lend me your skates, Bruce.”
“You can’t skate as fast as that boat is going!”
“I can try. Besides I’m not going to do all skating.”
“What then?” asked Jack, curious to know what scheme his chum had in his
mind.
“This!” and Tom pointed to the small sail he had been going to rig on
the craft when she went off by herself. “I can hold this at my back by
the mast, and the wind will blow me along.”
“Good!” cried Bruce, who understood. “That’s the idea Fairfield, here
are my skates.”
Tom soon had clamped them on his feet, and then, holding the improvised
sail at his back, he headed for the runaway iceboat. The sail was almost
like the regular ones skaters use.
Tom soon developed great speed, for the wind was strong and directly
at his back. The others started to run after him. The iceboat was some
distance ahead, but Tom was rapidly overhauling her.
“I’ll get her before she goes to smash,” he murmured hopefully. The boat
suddenly heeled over, and Tom thought surely she was going to capsize.
But she righted, and then went off on a new tack. Tom saw his chance.
“I can quarter across and get aboard, if she doesn’t veer again!” he
cried, and he altered his course. Nearer and nearer he came to the
iceboat, until he saw that he would soon pass her. “If only she doesn’t
veer around,” he murmured hopefully.
Fortunately, however, the wind held in that direction for a few minutes,
and the main sheet of the sail was caught in such a way as to hold the
craft steady.
“Now to do some skating on my own hook!” cried Tom, as he cast aside the
little sail. He struck out with all his strength and speed, and, as he
came close to the boat, with a leap and a spring he hurled himself into
the blanket-covered cockpit, landing with a thud.
It was the work of but a moment to seize the rudder, and put the boat
about, so that she was in control, though even as Tom did this she
nearly capsized.
“Whoa, now!” he called, as to a restive horse, and then, settling
himself down, he sent the boat back on a series of tacks to pick up his
chums.
“Say, did you see him skate!” exclaimed Bert Wilson in admiration, as he
called attention to the burst of speed on Tom’s part.
“I should say yes,” admitted Jack. “If we have a race I’ll back Tom.”
“He looks like a winner,” commented Bruce quietly.
Tom brought the iceboat up to his chums, and they got aboard. Jack
steered while Tom took off the skates he had not had time to remove, and
then he went to where he had dropped the little sail.
“I guess we’ll get along without it,” he remarked. “We’re going fast
enough.”
“I never thought you’d get the boat in time,” spoke Bruce admiringly.
“Where’d you learn to skate, Fairfield?”
“Oh, I could make pretty good time ever since I was a small lad, but I
sort of broke my record today, I guess.”
They were soon back at the boathouse, having talked on the way of the
little accident and of Tom’s skill.
“You’ll enter for the class races, won’t you?” inquired Reddy Burke of
Tom, a little later, when Bruce had told of the Freshman’s skill.
“I’ll be glad to.”
“They’ll come off in about a week if the ice holds,” went on the
red-haired athlete.
Practice for the skating races was soon under way. The affair was to
settle the championship of the school. Later, intercollegiate contests
would be held.
“Going to try?” asked Nick of his crony, when the notice of the ice
sports was posted. “I hear Fairfield is a wonder.”
“What do I care? I can skate some myself, and if I can’t win, maybe I
can spoil his chances.”
“How?”
“Oh, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
It was a cold, clear day, the ice was firm and smooth, and it was just
right for a skating race. The elimination trials had been held, and the
representatives of each class selected. There were four each from the
Freshmen, Sophomore, Junior and Senior divisions. Tom, of course, was
picked, and so was Jack, and, somewhat to the surprise of many, Sam
Heller also represented the first year lads.
“Look out for him,” advised Jack to his chum, when they were getting
ready. “If he skates near enough to you he may try some mean trick.”
“I’ll watch out, but I’m not worried.”
“I wonder if he’d be mean enough to squeal to our Latin prof. about the
warning letter you wrote?” went on Jack. “I’ve often thought of that.
He’s equal to it.”
“Oh, I don’t believe Heller would dare do a thing like that,” spoke Tom.
“I’m not alarmed. There, I guess my skates are sharp enough,” for the
two had been putting an extra edge on the steel runners in anticipation
of the contest.
There was a big crowd present to watch the skaters, who were lined up,
receiving their last instructions from the officials. Clamps were being
tightened, straps made more snug, and the last little attentions being
given.
“All ready?” called the starter.
“Ready!” answered the lads in turn.
“Look out for Sam. He’s quite near you,” warned Jack to his chum, in a
low voice. Tom nodded and looked across at the bully, who had his head
turned away.
“Go!” cried the starter, and his pistol cracked out on the frosty air.