“Who’s going to hold them as stakes?” questioned Bill Dixon, Sully’s most intimate chum.
The matter was talked over for several minutes, and finally a gentleman who had come to the hill to look at the sport agreed to become stakeholder.
Before the matter was decided, however, Sully did a good deal of whispering to Bill Dixon, who immediately left the crowd, which had moved over to the largest of the nearby campfires.
At last all was in readiness for the start. Hearing of the race, many on the course left their toboggans and sleds to witness the contest.
“Now, remember, the first to reach the railroad track switch wins the race,” shouted the stakeholder. “Are you ready?”
“We are,” said Sully.
“Then—go!”
With a great push, Sully sent the Whistler on the downward course in fine style. Harry likewise gave the Buster a good shove, and his toboggan also started. But he was a rod behind the other sled in the fraction of a second.
“Something is dragging under us!” cried Andy, quickly. “I can feel it plainly.”
“What can it be?” exclaimed Harry, in alarm. “Anybody’s clothing caught?”