Having some rods the advantage at the start, the boy reached the exterior of the building first, and struck out in a straight line for home.
RACE WITH THE SCHOOLMASTER.
The storms which prevailed throughout the entire winter in St. Lawrence County, had piled up their accumulated snows over the space of ground that separated the school-house from Willard Glazier's home. Over this single expanse of deep snow many feet had trodden a hard path, which alternate melting and freezing had formed into a solid, slippery, back-bone looking ridge, altogether unsafe for fast travel. Over this ridge young Willard was now running at the top of his speed. In view of the probable flogging behind, he took no heed of the perils of the path before him.
"So like an arrow, swift he flew
Shot by an archer strong,
So did he fly, which brings me to
The middle of my song."
As for Carter, not a whit daunted by the icy path and the fact that he was hatless, in slippers, and clad only in a long, loose summer coat worn in the heated school-room, he gave chase in gallant style, and while Willard possessed the advantage of an earlier start, the teacher's long legs compensated for the time gained by his pupil, and made a pretty even race of it.
On he went therefore, his coat-tails standing out straight like the forks of a boot-jack, and a red bandanna handkerchief streaming in the wind from his pocket behind like some fierce piratic flag! On, too, went Master Willard Glazier, until both—one now nearly upon the heels of the other—reached a troublesome miniature glacier, when each missed his footing.
Down went the boy's head and up went the master's heels, and the pair lay together, panting for breath, in the drifts of a contiguous snow-bank.
"Ah, ha!" said Carter, when he had recovered sufficiently to speak, "so you were going home, were you?"