“He won’t win it unless Jack and I drop out,” returned Harry.
“That’s so,” put in Jack Bascoe. “We’ll do our best to leave ’em all behind, eh, Harry?”
The Zero Club gathered at one side of the river, while Pete Sully and his crowd gathered at the other. Milne, also a good skater, glided here and there by himself. He was a good deal of a dude, and on this account had but few friends among the young people of Rudskill.
Sully was bragging about what he was going to do, and talked so loudly that he disgusted many who would otherwise have taken an interest in his endeavors. He was willing to bet all in his pockets—which was not much—that he would easily outdistance those who were pitted against him.
The first race, one of half-a-mile dash, was presently called, and six boys ranged up in line at the starting point. Boxy was in the crowd, he preferring this sort of contest to one where staying powers were required.
The boys started off like a flash at the signal, a loud shouting from the crowd following them.
The short race was over almost before the spectators had ceased to yell. A fellow named Tory had won, with Boxy a close second.
“Good for you, Boxy!” cried Jack. “If I do as well I shall be satisfied.”
“It’s a silver medal for my chest,” replied Boxy, proudly. “And that’s better than a leather one.”
After a short intermission, the second race, two miles, straightaway, was called. Andy was in this, and also Bill Dixon and four others.