Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates

by Mary Mapes Dodge

Now if Ludwig disliked anything in this world, it was to be called a boy—probably because he was nothing else. He grew indignant at once.

"Humph, what are you, I wonder. There, sir! now look and see if Peter isn't ahead!"

"I think he is," interposed Lambert, "but I can't quite tell at this distance."

"I think he isn't!" retorted Carl.

Jacob was growing anxious—he always abhorred an argument—so he said in a coaxing tone—"Don't quarrel—don't quarrel!"

"Don't quarrel!" mocked Carl, looking back at Jacob as he skated. "Who's quarreling? Poot, you're a goose!"

"I can't help that," was Jacob's meek reply. "See! they are nearing the turn of the canal."

"Now we can see!" cried Ludwig in great excitement.

"Peter will make it first, I know."

"He can't—for Ben is ahead!" insisted Carl. "Gunst! That ice-boat will run over him. No! he is clear! They're a couple of geese anyhow. Hurrah! they're at the turn. Who's ahead?"