Chapter XIII: 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.