cried one student, enthusiastically.

"Here's luck to you, Tom!" shouted George Granbury, and threw a snowball
that caught Tom in the neck.

"Thanks!" shouted Tom, shaking his fist. "I'll pay that back with
interest when I get the chance."

Half of the course was soon covered and still the bobs kept side by
side. But then the Rovers' bob began to drag behind.

"Hurrah, we are going to win!" cried one of the boys on the other bob.

"Said I could beat you!" yelled Peter Slade to Dick.

"The race isn't ended yet," flung back the eldest Rover boy.

On and on went the two bobs, and gradually that belonging to Peter Slade
drew a full length ahead. Dick glanced back anxiously.

"Something seems to be catching under the runners," he said, "Look and
see if everything is clear."

The boys behind looked, and then of a sudden Songbird let out a cry.

"It is Hans' tippet! Hans, go and put that tippet end around your neck
and don't let it drag under the bob!"

The German youth was wearing an old-fashion tippet around his neck, the
loose ends flying behind. One end had gotten under the bob runners and
was scratching along in the snow.

"Vell I neffer!" cried Hans, and pulled on the tippet so vigorously that
the long bob began to switch around sideways.

"Look out there!" sang out Sam. "Don't throw us off!"

"Wait, I'll loosen the tippet," came from Songbird, and guided the
muffler free of the bob. Then Hans took up the ends and tied them around
his waist.

The drag had caused the Rovers' bob to get two lengths behind the other,
and Peter Slade and his companions felt certain of winning.

"You can't touch us, Dick Rover!" called Slade, triumphantly.

"Good-bye!" called another boy. "We'll tell those at the bottom of the
hill that you are coming."

"Are we making better time?" questioned Tom, anxiously. "If we are not
I'll get off and shove," he added, jokingly.

"You hold tight now!" yelled Dick, and an instant later the bob went
down over a ridge of the hill. Free of the drag, it shot forth like an
arrow from a bow, and soon began to crawl up to Peter Slade's turnout.

"The Rovers are crawling up!"

"Yes, but it's too late to win!"

"We've got to win!" called out Sam.

And then both bobs took another ridge and rushed on to the end of the
course, less than a hundred yards away.

CHAPTER XXII

PELEG SNUGGERS' QUEER RIDE

The race had now reached its critical point and all of the cadets on the
hil