THE RACES
The straightaway races came first. Corinne, in her cherry-colored sweater and black cap and black, short skirt, looked startlingly pretty. And how she could skate—for a little way!
Between posts the Canadian senior carried off all honors—beating every other girl easily.
And she could do fancy “stunts” like a boy—whirling on one skate after a running start, cutting the double-eight, spinning like a top—oh, a whole lot of things that Nancy, or any other younger girl, had never attempted.
Yet when they lined up for the second race—one lap around the course—Nancy, who chanced to stand next to Corinne, knew that the captain of the West Side was breathing too heavily for a girl just entering a trial of speed.
“She’s not going to win this time,” thought Nancy, and looked down the line of contestants. Cora Rathmore was near the far end. “I hope she won’t be the lucky one,” thought Nancy.
Nancy was scarcely ready at the start. She “got off” badly. But to her surprise she found herself keeping well up with the bigger girls. And she did not have to exert herself much, either.
Corinne began to laugh, and Nancy passed her.
“Go on, Nancy, for the honor of our side!” gasped the Canadian. “I’m out of this race.”
Spurred by her words Nancy “let out a link,” as Jennie Bruce would have said. She found that there were other contestants that she could easily pass. When they turned the stake only Cora, Carrie Littlefield, Judy Craig, and one or two others were ahead.
To skate rapidly one should not use a “rolling” stroke; and Nancy saw that Carrie, the biggest girl ahead, was striking out too widely. She dashed from side to side of the course, taking up more than her just share, indeed, and covering more ice than was necessary.
Nancy took short, quick strokes. Her method was a bit jerky, perhaps, and lacked grace; but she was going straight down the stretch to the “home” stake, and before they had covered half the distance Nancy passed Carrie, and then Judy Craig.
But there was Cora Rathmore, her oldtime roommate and enemy, right ahead. Cora seemed to deliberately block her way, for occasionally she threw a glance behind her, and changed her course as Nancy tried to slip by.
The race was not between Cora and Nancy. There were two older girls ahead and it would have been hardly possible, at this stage of the contest, for either of the freshmen to overtake the leaders.
But it was evident that the Rathmore girl did not intend to let Nancy pass her. Once again the latter tried to turn out; and then, seeing that Cora flung herself that way, Nancy struck into a wide curve that should have taken her completely around Cora.
But as Nancy struck her left skate upon the ice again, something clashed with it, checked her course abruptly and, if she had not flung herself sideways upon the ice, and slid, she might have wrenched her foot badly.
“Oh! oh!” shrieked Jennie. “Nancy’s been thrown!”
But her friend picked herself up at once, and with a laugh skated on after the other contestants. One of the first-class girls won.
“How did you come to fall?” demanded Jennie, with lively interest.
“Oh, it must have been a twig sticking up in the ice,” declared Cora, before Nancy could reply. “You can’t see them at night.”
“Was that it, Nance?” demanded Jennie, suspiciously.
“It—it must have been,” admitted Nancy. But in her heart of hearts Nancy knew that she had stumbled over the toe of Cora Rathmore’s skate. The girl had deliberately thrown her.
It made no difference in the result of the race. Nancy could not have won, she knew. But it warned her to look out for Cora Rathmore if she raced again with her.
Nancy rested after that, refusing to enter any of the minor contests until the long race—the pièce de résistance of the evening—was called.
This was the endurance test that Miss Etching was anxious to have go off well. The physical instructor of Pinewood Hall had an object in putting her girls against a two-mile skate. More than Jennie Bruce had noted the fact that many of the best skaters among the juniors and seniors lacked “wind.”
It was hard for the instructor to watch all the girls closely enough to be sure that they dressed properly even in the gym work. She had warned them to dress loosely under their warm sweaters for the ice, too; for in skating every muscle in the body needs free play.
But certain girls, like Grace Montgomery among the freshmen, and the dressier girls of the older classes, gabbled a deal more than was good for them about their “figures,” and studied the fashion-plates too much.
But there were the warm dressing rooms in the boathouse for the girls to change in, and those who entered for the ten-lap race took advantage of these rooms to lay aside any garment that trammeled their movements. They all realized that it was an endurance test.
Thirty-eight girls were called by Miss Etching to line up for the long race. Some of them, of course, didn’t have a ghost of a show for honors in the trial of speed and endurance; but they wanted to show what they could do.
Jennie Bruce herself was one of the contestants; but, as she told Nancy, she didn’t expect to go half the distance. Some of the seniors who were in earnest remarked that they didn’t see the use in letting the “greenies” clutter up the ice. But Miss Etching had announced it as a free-for-all race and the big girls could not freeze out the contestants from the younger classes.
Indeed, the classes were each backing their own champions. The seniors were strongly for Corinne Pevay, who had recovered her breath and promised to bring home the prize. Carrie Littlefield was a favorite with the class that would graduate the next June from Pinewood Hall, too.
The juniors had half a dozen girls who all believed they could bear off the palm. Judy Craig was being “rooted” for by the sophomores. Of course, none of the three upper classes believed that a freshman had a chance; but Grace Montgomery had reserved herself all the evening for this contest, and now her friends were noisily declaring that she could win “if she tried.”
“She’d better try, then,” observed Jennie, with a laugh. “And try mighty hard, too. Some of those big girls have raced before and they have trained several terms under Miss Etching.”
“You’re not loyal to the class,” declared Cora Rathmore, sharply.
“I should worry! I’d like to see a freshman win; but Grace hasn’t a chance.”
“She’ll show you,” cried Sally, Jennie’s former roommate. “Grace Montgomery is a splendid skater. And you’ve never seen her really let herself out.”
“Say! she ‘lets herself out’ every time she speaks,” growled Jennie. “We all know what she is—bluff and bluster!”
“Is that so, Miss Smartie!” exclaimed Cora Rathmore, standing up for the girl she toadied to. “Let me tell you that Grace is the most popular girl in our class. Wait till we have election for class president.”
“I’m waiting,” remarked Jennie, calmly. “But what will that have to do with Grace Montgomery?”
“You’ll find out then how popular she is.”
“I will, and so will she,” chuckled Jennie, suddenly all a-smile.
“You don’t believe she will have the most votes?”
“Not, unless she puts them all in herself,” laughed Jennie. “Why! if Grace had a chance to be class president I’d go into sackcloth and ashes during the rest of the year.”
“You wait and see!” snapped Cora.
In her heart Jennie believed that the only girl among the freshmen entries who had the least chance to win the long race was Nancy. But she knew that this wasn’t the time to begin “rooting” for her friend.
Indeed, the best way to do was to cheer for all the freshies entered until they showed—within the first few laps—what they could do. And to this method Jennie,—a leader among the younger girls,—clung.
At the starting shot—for Miss Etching was not afraid of a pistol and used it to start the race—the thirty-eight girls got away from the line without much confusion. The best skaters were quickly in the lead, so that there was little entanglement at the first stake. By that time the girls were strung out for some yards.
Rounding the home stake for the first time, the seniors and juniors, with Judy Craig and—to Jennie’s surprise—Grace Montgomery and Cora, were in the lead. Nancy was trailing them easily, but it worried Jennie.
The latter lost her head and did all her best work—put out every bit of strength she had—in the second lap. She passed Nancy and many of the other girls belonging to the freshies and sophs; but she could not reach Grace and Cora. Judy Craig fell back, however.
At the beginning of the third lap more than half the girls dropped out. The leaders were so far ahead it was useless for them to continue. And their dropping out cleared the course for the real contestants.
Jennie fell back in that third lap, and Nancy passed her, still skating easily, and about half a lap behind the leaders.
“Oh, dear, Nance! Do hurry up and beat them,” gasped Jennie. “I’d hate to see Grace—or Cora—carry off the glory for our class.”
Nancy did not speak; she only smiled. She saved her breath—as Jennie might better have done.
For, at the beginning of the fourth lap, both of the girls who called themselves leaders of the freshmen class began to fall back, although they still struggled. The race was not half over and only ten girls remained in it. Jennie fairly fell to the ice, and sat there, panting. But she cheered Nancy when her chum passed her on the next—the fifth—round.
“Go it, old ‘slow but sure!’” she cried. “You’re going to make your mark, I see.”
It was only a few minutes later that Nancy, without increasing her speed, was right on the heels of Grace and Cora.
Ahead of these two freshmen were only two seniors, four juniors, and one soph. The leading girls—three of them—were more than half a lap ahead of Nancy; the others were strung out along the course.
Grace and Cora saw Nancy creeping up on them. They were losing ground steadily, and there was no “spurt” in them. Cora, indeed, was crying with vexation and nervousness.
“She’s going to pass us, Grace—the nasty thing!” she panted.
“Keep up, Cora!” begged her friend, and deliberately crossed in front of Nancy at the post, to keep her back.
Nancy lost stroke a little. They came down the course toward the home stake on this—the fifth—lap. Miss Etching skated slowly forward to eye the line of struggling girls. She had personally taken several of the younger contestants out of the race because she saw that they were doing too much.
Nancy tried to shoot ahead of her two classmates again. Grace and Cora almost collided in their attempt to balk Nancy.
But the physical instructor saw them.
“Miss Montgomery! Miss Rathmore! Out of the race!” she commanded, in a tone that was heard by most of the spectators gathered near.
“And just as I was getting my second wind!” cried Grace, angrily, as she came down to her waiting friends.
“I put you out for fouling,” declared Miss Etching, firmly. “Miss Rathmore, too. You are traitors to your class. Miss Nelson has a chance to make a record for you and you deliberately tried to keep her back. She is the freshest girl on the ice at this moment,” declared the teacher, with enthusiasm.
But Nancy did not hear this. She had rounded the stake in the wake of the older girls, and kept “plugging along” as though tireless. She was doing her part as usual—faithfully but not brilliantly—and had no idea that she was in danger of making a record for the freshman class.