Shawn was just behind Danner. They were nearing the last hundred yard flag. Danner threw all his energy and power into the last effort; every nerve and muscle was strained to its utmost.
"Danner wins!" went up the cry, but suddenly like a rush of wind, Shawn shot past him and the flag went down with Shawn a good five yards in the lead.
And such a mighty shout that went up on that frozen stream was never heard before. Old Brad was rubbing Shawn's face and chest. Shawn heard the loud huzzas and heard Danner's voice praising his wonderful race, but best of all, Lallite came up, and with her own hand, presented him the cup. On the shoulders the boys of Skarrow he was carried in triumph. It was a proud day for Shawn. He had brought the cup back to Kentucky.
They were nearing the last hundred yard flag.
CHAPTER XIII
The winter had passed away. Shawn had been working hard in school, and under the encouragement of Mrs. Alden, was making fair progress, but Sunday afternoons found him in his row-boat, wandering about the stream and generally pulling his boat out on the beach at Old Meadows, for Lallite was there to greet him, and already they had told each other of their love. What a dream of happiness, to wander together along the pebbled beach, or through the upland woods, to tell each other the little incidents of their daily life, and to pledge eternal fidelity. Oh dearest days, when the rose of love first blooms in youthful hearts, when lips breathe the tenderest promises, fraught with such transports of delight; when each lingering word grows sweeter under the spell of love-lit eyes. Oh, blissful elysium of love's young dream!
They stood together in the deepening twilight, when the sun's last bars of gold were reflected in the stream.