Ward Hill, the Senior

by Everett T. Tomlinson

Jack and Tim had taken their positions in front, for each was to steer his own sled. Tim's face betrayed no feeling, but as he glanced at Ripley, Ward could see that in spite of his apparent indifference he felt confident of winning. Indeed, as he returned Ward's glance a sneer spread over his face, which served to rouse his rival still more. How Ward did wish to win that race! They must have it! And the eager lad determined to give "The Arrow" such a start as she never before had.

"Are you ready?" called Mr. Blake, his tall, angular form bending in the excitement which he shared with the boys. "When I count three you're to start."

He took his watch from his pocket and then glanced once more about him to see that all were ready for the signal to be given.

"One! Two! THREE!"

Instantly Ward bent to his task and "The Arrow" began to move before him. Harder and harder he pushed, and as the speed instantly increased he leaped lightly into his seat and tightly grasped the body of Big Smith who was seated directly in front of him. Unmindful of the frantic cheers of the boys in the assembly behind him he turned to look at "The Swallow." Neither side apparently had gained any advantage in the start, and now the two bobs were speeding onward side by side.

The speed increased, but the two sleds still kept the same relative positions. On down the hillside swept the rivals, and soon they were almost flying through the air. The cold wind made their eyes water, but as yet neither Jack nor Tim had for a moment withdrawn his attention from the task before him. Both fully realized the necessity of constant watchfulness and were resolved that not an advantage should be lost.

Cheers arose from the boys waiting by the roadside, but almost before they could be heard they sounded far away behind them. Both sleds were well handled and were doing nobly.

Around the first bend in the road they swept almost together, and soon the first of the steep descents was gained. Almost as if they were not touching the ground the sleds shot through the air, but the increasing swiftness apparently was equally shared by them both. Side by side the two sleds swept onward. The speed increased each moment, and as yet it was impossible to determine which was gaining the advantage. On and on they sped, "swifter than the wings of the wind."

Around the next curve, then on down the next fall in the road, then around the next bend. More than half of the course had now been covered and still the sleds sped forward side by side.

Before them lay the last of the steep places, and as in an instant they seemed to be upon it, Ward gave a shout as he saw "The Arrow" push slightly forward in advance of its rival. The advantage was very slight but still it was an advantage, for he was nearly abreast of Tim Pickard, who was seated in front on "The Swallow" and steering his own sled, as we know.