“Everyone is holding back,” said Jack to Tom.
“Yes, waiting for a break. I’ve a good notion to give it to ’em, and take a chance.”
“Don’t you do it. Let some one else set the pace. Hold back. We want to win this race for the Freshman class, and we’re depending on you.”
“Hope I don’t disappoint you. There goes Blaisdell for the Juniors. Come on!”
One of the skaters had spurted and at once the others increased their speed to keep up to him. The race was now on in earnest, and soon half the distance was covered, with no one markedly in the lead. Several had dropped out, hopelessly distanced, but there were enough of each class left to make the result doubtful.
“I wonder what Sam is going to do?” mused Nick Johnson, as he watched his crony. “He’d better get busy.”
The skaters had turned, and were coming back toward the starting point. They could hear the cheers of their comrades, and the cries of the followers of the various classes could be distinguished.
“Better hit it up, Tom,” advised Jack.
“I will. Here goes!”
Tom struck out with more speed and power than he had previously used. He imagined he was once more chasing the runaway iceboat, and he gripped his fists and clenched his teeth as he made up his mind to win.