CHAPTER XVI
"JUST FOR THE SCHOOL!"
There was a stiff, biting wind blowing straight down the river, nippingthe fingers and toes of the crowd about the landing and whirling awaythe smoke from the chimney of the boat-house. Overhead the winter skywas leaden and sullen clouds were driving southward. Underfoot the icerang hard as steel, and, save for a space in mid-river, was as smooth asa mirror. It was well on toward four o'clock and already the shadowsalong the banks hinted of coming night. Hammond and Ferry Hill werehobnobbing about the boat-house stove or out on the ice in front of thelanding. The terms of the race had been arranged and the big,yellow-haired Schonberg was idly cutting figures in and out of the groupto keep himself warm. The race was to be a half-mile long, starting hereat the Ferry Hill landing, crossing straight as a strip of weak icewould permit to a point on the Hammond side of the river and returningagain to the landing, finishing at a mark indicated by an empty nail kegand a broken soap box set some twenty yards from shore. All thatremained of the preliminaries was for Ferry Hill to produce her entry.Mr. Cobb, who was to act as starter, timer, judge and everything else ofan official sort, looked at his watch and announced that it was time tostart. Schonberg stopped his capers, removed his sweater and skated tothe mark, looking about with pardonable curiosity for a sight of hisadversary. Horace and Harry emerged from the throng and joined him.
"This is Mr. Schonberg, Harry," said Horace. "Schonberg, my cousin, MissEmery."
Harry bowed gravely in her best society manner and Schonberg made afutile grab at his knit cap.
"Happy to meet you," he muttered. Then, possibly for want of somethingbetter to say, he turned to Horace and asked:
"When are you chaps going to be ready?"
"We're ready now," answered Horace soberly. Schonberg looked about him.The crowd had surrounded the mark by this time and Mr. Cobb had hiswatch in hand.
"Where's your man, Burlen?" asked Custis, Hammond's senior classpresident.
"Right here," answered Horace, indicating Harry. "Miss Emery is ourman."
Hammond howled with laughter. Harry's cheeks reddened and her eyesflashed.
"You're joking, aren't you?" asked Custis.
"Not at all," replied Horace impatiently.
"But, I say, Burlen, that's poppycock, you know! We didn't challenge agirl's school!"
"That's all right," said Burlen. "We said we'd race you, and we will.Miss Emery is Doctor Emery's daughter and she belongs to the school justas much as any of us. If you're afraid to race her--"
"Don't be a fool! Of course we're not afraid, but--but it's suchnonsense!"
"Course it is," broke in Schonberg. "I didn't come over here to race agirl!"
"Then you shouldn't have agreed to our terms," answered Jack, joiningthe discussion. "We told you plainly in our letter that we would raceyou if you'd allow us to name our entry any time before the race. We'vedecided and there she is. If you have any idea, Schonberg, that you'vegot an easy thing--well, just try it. Miss Emery's our best skater, andshe's so good that we're not ashamed to acknowledge it. And as we knewthat Schonberg was an A-1 skater we thought our best wouldn't be any toogood."
"Oh, all right," said Custis, with a shrug of his shoulders, "if youinsist I guess we're willing."
"I'm not," said Schonberg. "I won't race a girl."
And Schonberg held out for many minutes and had to be argued with, andcoaxed by, half the Hammond contingent. But finally he yielded, thoughwith ill grace, and took his place at the mark.
"All right," he said. "I'm ready."
Harry took her place a yard away, the throng pushed back and Mr. Cobbdrew out his starting pistol. Those of the boys who were on skates, andmost of them were, prepared to follow the contestants.
Harry wore a brown sweater and a short gray skirt. Her skating bootswere securely fastened to a pair of long-bladed racing skates. Her headwas bare and the wind blew her red tresses about her face as she awaitedthe signal. There was a little spot of intense color in each cheek andher blue eyes flashed venomously when Schonberg turned to glance at herhalf contemptuously. If she had needed any incentive to do her levelbest within the next few minutes Schonberg's pronunciation of the word"girl" had supplied it. Harry was insulted and indignant, and Roy,watching her from a little distance, guessed something of her feelingsand took hope. No one really expected Harry to win. That afourteen-year-old girl should beat a seventeen-year-old boy was out ofthe question. Schonberg, too, was known to be as good a skater asHammond had had for many years. But every fellow had implicit faith inHarry and knew that she would give the Hammond skater as hard a race ashe had ever had. Mr. Cobb raised his pistol.
"On your mark! Get ready! Set!"
Then the pistol spoke sharply on the winter air and the two contestants,the brown sweater and the red jersey, shot ahead in a mad scramble. Thethrong followed and for a moment the ring of steel on the hard ice wasthe only sound. Then the racers, having found their paces, settled downto work. They were side by side, a bare three yards dividing them. Justbehind them skated the foremost of the spectators, Roy and Warren andJack leading. If Schonberg had entertained any idea of having the raceto himself he was disillusioned during the first fifty yards. Once hethrew a glance at the girl. After that he settled down to work andwasted no time. He skated wonderfully well and even the throng of FerryHill boys behind could not but envy him his speed and grace. Body wellover, legs gliding back and forth from the hips, head up and arms keptrather close in, Schonberg fairly flew over the ice.
And beside him sped Harry.
Harry was not the accomplished skater that her rival was. She wasgraceful and she had speed, but she showed far more effort than did theHammond boy, her strides being shorter and her little brown-clad armsswinging back and forth like bits of machinery. Half way across itbecame necessary to hold well to the right to avoid the patch of weakice, but Harry was the last to leave the straight course and Schonberghad to either spurt ahead of her and bear up-river or fall behind. Hechose the latter alternative, eased his pace a moment, shot behind herand made for the lowest point of safe ice. For a moment longer Harryclung to her straight course. Then she swung up-stream a trifle andfollowed him a yard behind, seemingly paying but little heed to thestreaks of snow-ice ahead.
Schonberg rounded the danger point and made straight for the fartherbank where the limb of a black birch had been placed a few yards fromshore to serve as a turning mark. Harry had lost ground during the lastfew moments, in spite of the fact that she had held closer to the directcourse between shore and shore, and was now fully twenty feet behind.Few of the audience went beyond mid-stream, but stopped there andwatched the racers reach the farther mark, swing around inside of it andturn back across the river. From where Roy and Jack stood it looked asthough Harry had made up a little of her lost ground, but it was hard totell at that distance.
"He will simply skate away from her coming back," said Jack.
"She's making a dandy race, though," Roy responded. "I didn't thinkshe'd do as well as she has, did you?"
"Yes, but I've seen Harry skate before this. Gee! Just look at the waythat Dutchman is coming!"
Already Schonberg was half way across to them, heading for where theystood at the up-stream end of the snow-ice. Behind him, how far behindit was difficult to determine, came Harry, a brown and gray spot in thedeepening twilight. Jack and Roy turned and followed the others slowlyback toward the finish. When next they looked around Schonberg wasalmost up to them and Harry--
"Where the dickens is she?" cried Roy.
"There," answered Jack, pointing. "What's she up to? She can't be goingto try that weak ice!"
But plainly she was. Not one foot from the direct line between turningpoint and finish did Harry swerve. Schonberg was well up-stream fromher, but no nearer the finish, for he had gone out of his way to avoidthe weak ice. Roy shouted a warning and Jack waved wildly, but Harry, ifshe saw, paid no heed. Straight onward she came, her skates fairlytwinkling over the ice, her li
ttle body swaying from side to side. Then,before any of the watchers could even turn back to head her off, she wasskimming over the white streaks of soft snow-ice.
Roy and Jack and one or two others sped downstream toward her. Roystrove to remember what it was best to do when folks went through theice and wondered where there was a rope or a plank. Once his heart stoodstill for an instant, for Harry had stumbled and nearly fallen. But shefound her pace again almost instantly and came on, skirting a black poolof open water. She was gaining on Schonberg at every ring of her skates,and that youth, who had now discovered her tactics, was making for thefinish with all his might. Before Roy or Jack had reached the margin ofthe dangerous stretch Harry had left it behind her and was once more onhard ice. As she swept past at a little distance she glanced up andsmiled triumphantly.
"Go on, Harry!" they cried in unison, and turned and sped after her.
"Schonberg made a last despairing effort when twenty feetfrom the line."]
She had gained many yards over Schonberg and as their converging pathsbrought them nearer and nearer together this gain became apparent. Royand Jack skated as hard as they could go, and, being untired, wereclose up behind Harry when the finish line was a bare fifty feet away.Almost beside them came Schonberg, his head down and every muscle tensewith his efforts to reach the line ahead of his adversary. But he was agood six yards to the bad. Hammond and Ferry Hill filled the twilightwith their clamor and the wooded bank threw back the frantic cries of"Come on, Schon!" "Go it, Harry!" "Skate! Skate!"
And skate they did, the cherry-red jersey and the brown sweater.Schonberg made a last despairing effort when twenty feet from the lineand fairly ate up the ice, but even as he did so Harry brought her feettogether, pulled herself erect and slid over the finish three yardsahead, beating her adversary, as Chub said, "in a walk!"
The throngs surrounded the racers, and Harry, flushed of face, pantingand laughing, was applauded and congratulated until the din wasdeafening. Then Schonberg pushed his way through the ranks of heradmirers, his red face smiling stiffly. He held out his hand to Harryand removed his red cap.
"You're a bully skater, Miss Emery," he said. "But I guess you wouldn'thave won if you hadn't taken a short cut."
"No, I wouldn't," answered Harry with the magnanimity of the conqueror."You'd have beaten me easily."
Schonberg's smile became more amiable.
"Anyway, I can beat any of the fellows here," he said, recovering somedegree of self-sufficiency. And no one contradicted him. "You took bigrisks when you came across that rotten ice," he went on. "I wouldn'thave tried that for a thousand dollars!"
"You wouldn't?" asked Harry, opening her blue eyes very wide. "Why, I'ddo it any day--and just for the School!"