“Yes,” Reed reassured, recovering his skis.
“Too bad, kid!” sympathized an onlooker. “That first jump of yours might have been a record if you’d kept your feet.”
Reed glanced at once at his landing place. He had come down beyond the hundred foot mark.
“Well,” was his comment, “all I can do is try again!”
“The boy’s got nerve!” somebody nearby remarked.
Champion Sam Hartley’s first jump gave early evidence of his superb form when he broke his own record with a leap of one hundred and eleven feet. He mounted the hill, grinning jubilantly and eyeing the fellow from down South who was about to take off on his second try, as much as to say, “Beat that, if you can, you beginner!”
“He’s good all right,” Reed conceded. “This gliding through the air and keeping your balance without wings of any kind is no small trick. When you land it’s usually harder, too.”
Setting himself grimly, Reed leaned forward.
“He’s off!” cried the crowd.