"He must be a famous skater," said Tom, when he learned of this. "Dick, I don't think you'll stand much show against him."
"I don't know. Do you know what I think of Peter Slade? I think he is a big blower."
"I think that myself. Still, if he has won six races he must know something about racing."
"Well, if I lose I shan't cry over it," said Dick, and there the talk ended.
The race was to be for two miles,—a mile up the lake shore and a mile back. At the appointed hour the contestants lined up, and at a word from George Strong, who had consented to start them, they were off.
It was easy to see that Peter Slade was a good skater, and with hardly an effort he went to the front during the first quarter of the race. But then Larry and Dick began to push him, and when the mile turn was made Larry was but two yards in the rear, with Dick almost on his heels.
"Go it, Slade, you can win easily!"
"Catch him, Larry!"
"Put on more steam, Dick!" yelled Tom, enthusiastically.
And then the turning point was passed by all the racers and the struggle on the homestretch commenced.
