e moon that she'll be beaten."

The Rovers and their chums, as well as many other cadets and boys and
girls from that vicinity, had been using the hill for a couple of hours
when the race between the _Blue Moon_ and the _Yellow Streak_ was
proposed by Nick Carncross, the new friend of Bill Glutts.

Now, as my old readers know, the Rovers and Bill Glutts were by no means
on good terms with each other. In the past Glutts had proved himself
anything but a friend, and they had had more than one personal encounter
with this freckled-faced bully.

But it was not in the nature of any of the Rover boys to refuse a
challenge to race, knowing well that if this was done many would think
they were afraid of being beaten. So the challenge was accepted, and
immediately the details were arranged.

Each bobsled was to carry six cadets, and they were to start down the
hill side by side, the _Blue Moon_ keeping well to the right and the
_Yellow Streak_ well to the left. The first sled to cross a mark located
out on the lake was to be declared the winner.

With the four Rover boys were their intimate chums, Spouter Powell and
Gif Garrison. With Glutts were Codfish, Carncross, and three other of
the bully's cronies.

"Gee! I wish I was in that race," came from Will Hendry, who, on account
of his unusual stoutness, was always called Fatty.

"Nothing doing, Fatty," remarked Dan Soppinger, another cadet. "You'd
make the Rovers lose sure."

"All ready?" questioned Walt Baxter, who had been settled on as the
starter of the race.

"All ready," answered Jack Rover, after a glance around to see that
nothing was out of order.

"Been ready half an hour," grumbled Bill Glutts.

"All right, then!" cried Walt. "One--two--three--go!"

As he finished Fred Rover, who was at the rear of the _Blue Moon_, gave
that bobsled a quick push and leaped aboard. At the same time Carncross
sent the _Yellow Streak_ forward and also sprang to his seat. Then, side
by side, the two bobsleds moved down the long hill, slowly at first, but
gradually gathering speed.

It was five o'clock of an afternoon in early December, and consequently
quite dark, even on the snow-clad hills. Many of the smaller children,
and also the girls, had gone home, leaving the place to the cadets and a
few others.

"I hope we win this," remarked Randy, as the two sleds continued to
speed forward side by side.

"Of course we'll win it," came promptly from Gif Garrison.

"We've