“The race isn’t over yet,” muttered Ned, yet he was a bit doubtful now as to the outcome.
“Come on there! Come on!” shouted those on Frank’s sled to those on the other. “Come on, we’re leaving you behind!”
“We’re coming!” shrilly cried the girls on the second bobsled.
“We’ll tell them that when we reach the bottom of the hill,” answered their rivals.
Farther and farther ahead forged Frank’s sled. It was half a length in the lead now, and though Ned tried to pick out the smoothest and slipperiest places, he could not gain anything.
Then, suddenly, without any apparent reason for it, unless it was that it came to a glair in the ice, Frank’s bobsled shot swiftly ahead, until, in a few seconds, it was leading by two lengths.
“Oh you hot chocolates!” taunted the leaders, laughingly.
And then, still apparently for no reason, Frank sent his sled, which was on the right of Ned’s, diagonally across the course, in front of the sled behind, a rather dangerous proceeding.
“What’s he doing that for?” cried Ned. “Brakes there, Jerry, or we’ll run into him!”