Fred grinned good-naturedly. His sled wasn’t new, but it wasn’t falling apart yet, he assured them.
“I’m going down to the foot of the hill to watch the finish,” announced Harry Worden. “Billy Pierce will give you the word to start.”
Jess and Artie and Ward decided to stay at the top of the hill, but Polly tagged along after Harry, and Margy went with her. As soon as they reached the foot of the hill, Harry waved his arm as a signal to Billy Pierce to give the word to the racers.
“There they go!” cried Polly, as the two black specks at the top of the hill suddenly shot down.
The snow had stopped half an hour before, and the hill was well packed from the sleds and the feet of the coasters. It was cold, but even Margy forgot that in the excitement of the moment.
The sleds seemed to be evenly matched half of the distance, then one pulled slightly ahead.
“It’s Fred!” said Polly, in a half-whisper. “I know him by his cap.”
Fred’s sled, if it was Fred’s sled, kept the lead. The other did not gain.
“Fred shot around that well in the road, I guess, and Joe must have gone in and out—that takes time,” said Harry. “But you’re likely to land in the ditch, going around.”
The watchers could see now that it was Fred who was ahead. Margy thought she felt a flake of snow and looked up at the sky, while Harry allowed his gaze to wander past the racing sleds to the top of the hill. It was but a moment, but Polly was the only one to see what happened in that moment.