The boys behind the two bobsleds exerted their strength, and the long coasters, with their loads of laughing, shouting and merry boys and girls, began to move slowly. Once over the crest of the hill they gathered momentum, until they were shooting down the moonlit streak of ice and snow at ever increasing speed.
In places water had been poured over the snow, and this in freezing had added a glair that increased the speed of the sleds.
A coasting race is a peculiar one. Given two sleds of exactly the same size, with equally polished runners, and with weights nearly the same, start them at the same time, and one will get to the bottom of the hill ahead of the other.
Try it again, and the results may be reversed. Just why this is so it is hard to say, unless it is that the winning sled may, without the knowledge of the rider, strike more slippery places than the other. Of course, weight has something to do with it, once the sleds are started, the more heavily laden one acquiring greater momentum. But sometimes even that may not count.
The bobsled of our heroes and that of Frank Watson were about evenly weighted, but, as Jerry had said, the steering gear of theirs was a little stiff, while their rival had a new sled in excellent condition.
“But we’ll beat him,” said Ned to Bob, who sat behind him.
“I hope so,” agreed Chunky.
So far the sleds were on even terms, almost in a straight line with one another. Then, as the slope of the hill became steeper, Frank gradually forged ahead.
“He’s going to win,” said Bob.