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.”