o sooner said than they were off. Silvey's new skates cut the ice
cleanly at every stroke, while his chum's duller pair skidded and slid
now and then as he gained headway. Along the narrowing, west pond, past
helpless beginners whose efforts not to appear ridiculous made them
doubly so, past staid business men, past arm-linked couples from the
university dormitories, and out on the thirty-foot path of scraped ice
which encircled the island. There Silvey slowed up.

"Getting bumpy," he cautioned. "Watch out!"

The warning came too late. John's skate sank to his shoe sole in a crack
and sent him sprawling. He stood up shakily and rubbed a bruised knee.

"First fall, first fall," yelled Bill as he turned back. "Hurt much?"

John shook his head and started off again bravely. They got into the
swing of it as they swept under the second island bridge and out on the
last lap of the course. Faster and faster their legs flew over the ice
as they dodged cracks with more certainty. Skater after skater was left
behind, often by a hair's-breadth margin of safety which evoked
half-heard protests as they skimmed on.

"Almost there," shouted Bill as he increased his efforts to the utmost.

"Tie," yelled John as he shot over and grabbed an arch of the northern
bridge to stop his momentum. "Look at the crowd. What's happened?"

They skated slowly over and around until they found a thin space in the
human circle which allowed them a view of proceedings.

"Fancy skaters," whispered Bill. "Look at him write his name on the
ice."

"And the medals on his sweater. Gee, don't you wish you were him?"

A voice broke in on them.

"Scatter there, scatter." The policeman forced his way to the center.
"You're blocking the way to the skating house. Keep moving!"

In obedience to the majesty of the law, the boys skated off and found a
secluded, smooth bit of ice nearer shore. There, John tried to cut a
shaky "J" on the ice and fell over backwards. Shortly afterward, Silvey
met with a similar fate, and the boys looked at each other despondently.
Both pairs of ankles were aching badly from the unaccustomed exercise,
but neither wanted to admit it. Silvey loosened one of his skate straps.

"Got your watch, John?"

It showed a quarter past nine. "Our mothers'll be waiting for us," he
said. Thus a way to honorable retreat was found.

They stamped stiffly back to the warming house and took off their
skates. John held his numbed fingers as nea