Half of the course was soon covered and still the bobs kept side by side. But then the Rovers' bob began to drag behind.
"Hurrah, we are going to win!" cried one of the boys on the other bob.
"Said I could beat you!" yelled Peter Slade to Dick.
"The race isn't ended yet," flung back the eldest Rover boy.
On and on went the two bobs, and gradually that belonging to Peter Slade drew a full length ahead. Dick glanced back anxiously.
"Something seems to be catching under the runners," he said. "Look and see if everything is clear."
"The boys behind looked, and then of a sudden Songbird let out a cry.
"It is Hans' tippet! Hans, go and put that tippet end around your neck and don't let it drag under the bob!"
The German youth was wearing an old-fashion tippet around his neck, the loose ends flying behind. One end had gotten under the bob runners and was scratching along in the snow.
"Vell I neffer!" cried Hans, and pulled on the tippet so vigorously that the long bob began to switch around sideways.
"Look out there!" sang out Sam. "Don't throw us off!"
