And Viggo meant honestly to do what his father had told him, but now you shall hear what happened.
When he came to the lake there was a crowd of boys there, big ones and little ones, from all the farms and cottages round about. There must have been twenty or more. Most of them had skates on but some only slid on the ice. And Viggo could see that they had been in just as great hurry as he to get down on the ice, for some had run off without caps and some without mittens, but they did not notice the cold. They shouted and laughed so that you could not hear yourself think.
As soon as Viggo had put on his skates he began to look around in the crowd. Most of the boys he knew, for he had raced with them before and knew he could beat every one of them. But there was one boy who skated about by himself and seemed not to care about the others. He was much bigger than Viggo, almost half grown, and Viggo saw immediately that it would not be easy to beat him in a race. The boys called him Peter Lightfoot and the name fitted him. Peter crossed his arms and swung around on one leg. He could do the corkscrew, skate backwards as easily as forwards, and lie so low and near the ice that he might have kissed it. And this he did as easily and neatly as one turns around on the parlor floor. But all this Viggo could do too.
"Can you write your initials?" asked Viggo. Yes, Peter Lightfoot stood on one leg and wrote PL in the ice, but the letters hung together. Then Viggo started. He ran, turned himself around backwards and wrote P L and between the P and the L he made a short jump so that the letters stood apart.
"Hurrah for Viggo! He wrote Peter Lightfoot backwards," shouted the boys and threw up their caps. Then the big boy blushed crimson, but he said nothing and tried to laugh.
Now they began to play "Fox and Geese," and everybody wanted Viggo to be the fox. Peter wanted to play too, for he was sure that Viggo could not catch him; he was indeed much bigger and stronger. The race course was scratched in the ice and Viggo called, "Out, out, my geese," and off they ran. But Viggo didn't care to run after the little goslings, it was the big gander, Peter Lightfoot, he wished to catch. And that was a game! Off they went, Peter in front and Viggo after him, so that the wind whistled around them, back and forth in corners and circles, and all the other boys stopped and looked on. Every time Viggo was right at his heels, Peter jumped and was far ahead of the fox again. But at last Viggo had him cornered, but just as he would have caught the goose, Peter stretched out his left leg and meant to trip Viggo, but his skate caught in a frozen twig and—thump! there lay Peter Lightfoot, the ice cracking all around him.
"A good thing he wasn't made of glass," laughed the boys and crowded around Peter. He got up and looked angrily around the circle of boys.
"Now stand in a row, we'll jump," said he, and the boys did. They piled hats and caps on top of each other, first only three high. The whole row jumped that, then four, then five, then six, but each time fewer got over and those who pushed the top cap off with their skates had to stop playing and must stand aside and look on. At last there were eight hats and caps on top of each other, and now only Peter and Viggo were left to jump.
"Put your cap on top!" said Peter, and Viggo did. But all the boys called and shouted, one louder than the other, that no one could ever make that jump.
Now Peter came so fast that the air whistled about him, jumped—and whiff! he was over! He touched Viggo's cap the least little bit, but it did not fall off the pile.