“Rah! Rah! Freshmen! Elmwood Freshmen!” cried the members of that class, to urge on their comrades.
“Boom! Boom! Boomity-boom Seniors! Siss!” came the peculiar cry of the four-year lads.
“Sophomore! Sophomore!
Rah! Rah! Rah!
Going like a trolley car!”
That was the second year boys cheering.
Then came the call of the Juniors:
“June! June, beautiful June.
We’ll win the race and win it soon.
Siss!
Boom!
Rah!
Juniors!”
The line was a trifle broken now, as one or two forged ahead of the others, and among them was Tom. Yet he was holding himself in check, and narrowly watching the others, for the race was not a short one, and he knew the danger of getting winded too early in it, and spending his strength so that he had none left for a final spurt.
Jack was even with his chum, though he was not as good a skater as was our hero. Sam Heller was a little behind, but in practice he had done well, and Tom knew that in his enemy he had a dangerous rival.
Bruce Bennington was skating well, the only one of the Seniors who seemed to stand a chance, while a member each of the Junior and Sophomore class was up in the front now.