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 iceboat
will run over him. No! He is clear! They're a couple of geese, anyhow.
Hurrah! they're at the turn. Who's ahead?"

"Peter!" cried Ludwig joyfully.

"Good for the captain!" shouted Lambert and Jacob.

And Carl condescended to mutter, "It IS Peter after all. I thought, all
the time, that head fellow was Ben."

This turn in the canal had evidently been their goal, for the two racers
came to a sudden halt after passing it.

Carl said something about being "glad that they had sense enough to
stop and rest," and the four boys skated on in silence to overtake their
companions.

All the while Carl was secretly wishing that he had kept on with Peter
and Ben, as he felt sure he could easily have come out winner. He was a
very rapid, though by no means a graceful, skater.

Ben was looking at Peter with mingled vexation, admiration, and surprise
as the boys drew near.

They heard him saying in English, "You're a perfect bird on the ice,
Peter van Holp. The first fellow that ever beat me in a fair race, I can
tell you!"

Peter, who understood the language better than he could speak it,
returned a laughing bow at Ben's compliment but made no further reply.
Possibly he was scant of breath at the time.

"Now, Penchamin, vat you do mit yourself? Get so hot as a fire
brick--dat ish no goot," was Jacob's plaintive comment.

"Nonsense!" answered Ben. "This frosty air will cool me soon enough. I
am not tired."

"You are beaten, though, my boy," said Lambert in English, "and fairly
too. How will it be, I wonder, on the day of the grand race?"

Ben flushed and gave a proud, defiant laugh, as if to say, "This was
mere pastime. I'm DETERMINED to beat then, come what