e'll be down in an instant; no, he won't. I wonder if he knows
he is all alone: the other boys are nearly at the boundary line. Yes,
he knows it. He stops. He wipes his hot face. He takes off his cap,
and looks about him. Better to give up with a good grace. He has made
a hundred friends by that hearty, astonished laugh. Good Jacob Poot!

The fine fellow is already among the spectators, gazing as eagerly as
the rest.

A cloud of feathery ice flies from the heels of the skaters as they
"bring to," and turn at the flagstaffs.

Something black is coming now,--one of the boys: it is all we know. He
has touched the _vox humana_ stop of the crowd; it fairly roars. Now
they come nearer; we can see the red cap. There's Ben, there's Peter,
there's Hans!

Hans is ahead. Young Madame Van Gend almost crushes the flowers in her
hand: she had been quite sure that Peter would be first. Carl Schummel
is next, then Ben, and the youth with the red cap. The others are
pressing close. A tall figure darts from among them. He passes the red
cap, he passes Ben, then Carl. Now it is an even race between him and
Hans. Madame Van Gend catches her breath.

It is Peter! He is ahead! Hans shoots past him. Hilda's eyes fill with
tears: Peter _must_ beat. Annie's eyes flash proudly. Gretel gazes
with clasped hands: four strokes more will take her brother to the
columns.

He is there! Yes; but so was young Schummel just a second before. At
the last instant, Carl, gathering his powers, had whizzed between
them, and passed the goal.

"CARL SCHUMMEL, ONE MILE!" shouts the crier.

Soon Madame Van Gleck rises again. The falling handkerchief starts the
bugle, and the bugle, using its voice as a bowstring, shoots off
twenty girls like so many arrows.

It is a beautiful sight; but one has not long to look: before we can
fairly distinguish them they are far in the distance. This time they
are close upon one another. It is hard to say, as they come speeding
back from the flagstaff, which will reach the columns first. There are
new faces among the foremost,--eager glowing faces, unnoticed before.
Katrinka is there, and Hilda; but Gretel and Rychie are in the rear.
Gretel is wavering, but when Rychie passes her she starts forward
afresh. Now they are nearly beside Katrinka. Hilda is still in
advance: she is almost "home." She has not faltered since that bugle
note sent her flying: like an arrow, still she is speeding toward the
goal. Cheer after cheer