to have been one of the prizes
in the girls' events."

"Why?" queried Dick, looking a bit disconcerted.

"Why, those hand-rails are meant for timid girls to take hold
of. A boy would never want a toboggan with hand-rails."

"Perhaps the fellow who's going to win the freshman's mile expects
to invite some of the young ladies to go out tobogganing with
him," hinted young Prescott.

"Is it _fixed_ who shall win that race?" demanded Laura, teasingly.

"Hardly that," Dick rejoined, dryly.

"Then how do you know the coming owner's intentions, if you don't
know who is going to win the race?" Miss Bentley insisted.

"Well, you see, it's this way?" Dick admitted, "I've made up my
mind to win that race."

"So you regard the race as being as good as won by yourself?"
smiled the physician's daughter.

"It's one of the rules of Dick & Co.," Prescott answered, as they
turned and skated slowly back toward the center of the cove, "when
we go into anything we consider it as good as won from the outset."

"Well, I like that spirit," Laura admitted. "Faint heart never
yet won anything but a spill."

Laura had her card out by this time, and was studying it
leisurely, trusting to her companion to guide her.

"I see Fred Ripley is entered for the grand event in fancy skating,"
she observed.

"Yes; are you interested in him?"

Something in the directness of the question caused the girl to
bite her lips.

"Now, that's hardly fair, Dick," she cried, flushing with vexation.
"No; the fact is, I'm hoping he'll lose."

"Why?"

"Because, Fred has never been very nice to you, Dick."

That was direct enough, and Dick flushed with pleasure.

"Thank you, Laura; that's more handsome than what I said to you."

"I accept your apology," she laughed. "Look! There goes Fred
Ripley now! How foolish of him."

Fred was heading straight out of the cove toward the river. He
was a fine skater, and now he was showing off at his best. He
had adapted a "turn promenade" step from roller skating, and
was whirling along, turning and half dancing as he sped along.
It was a graceful, rhythmical performance. Despite the fact
that young Ripley was not widely liked, his present work drew
considerable applause from the spectators.

That applause acted like incense under the young man's nostrils.
He determined to go farther out, maintaining his present step
unbroken.

"Look out, Ripley!" warned Thomp. "The ice won't bear out there."