"Full speed, that's the way!" cried the lookers-on. And the last man put on the pace, rushed towards the meeting-point like a whirlwind, and reached it in time. The girl swung round and dashed off to the left, but made too short a turn, and was caught.
The game went on, growing fast and furious. All were in high spirits, ready to laugh at the slightest thing; every little unexpected turn and twist was greeted with shouts of glee.
Olof was last man now. He stood ready in front of the row, glancing to either side.
"Last pair off'!"
The last two were ill-matched; a big broad-shouldered ditcher, and a little slender girl of barely seventeen.
The man lumbered off in a wide curve, the girl shot away like a weasel, almost straight ahead, her red bodice like a streak of flame and her short plait straight out ahead.
"That's it—that's the way!" cried the rest.
The girl ran straight ahead at first, Olof hardly gaining on her at all. Then she tried a zigzag across the grass. Olof took short cuts, increasing his pace, and was almost at her heels.
"Now, now!" cried the others behind.
The girl gave a swift glance round, saw her pursuer already stretching out his hand, and broke away suddenly to one side.