nd!"

"Townsend!"

"Rogers!"

"Rogers!"

"Porter!"

"Porter!"

"How are we making it?" sang out Jack as he passed.

"A minute and a fraction behind the record!" was the reply.

"Hit it up, Chub!" shouted Jack.

"Go to the dickens!" answered Chub. "Who wants the lead?"

"I'll take it," Pryor replied.

"All right." And Chub dropped back to Roy.

"Minute and a fraction--be hanged!" he gasped. "I'll bet--we're right
on--time! How you coming?"

"Getting tuckered," answered Roy. "How much farther?"

"Not quite--three miles. Ouch! Stepped on--fool stone!"

"Better save your wind, you two," advised Jack.

"Wish I had some to save," thought Roy.

Then there occurred the first division in the ranks. Pryor left the road
and scrambled over into a field. Jack, Chub and Roy followed, but
Townsend kept to the road and others as they came up followed him.

"What's the matter--with the road?" asked Roy.

"Longer," Chub answered briefly.

They jogged up a steep hill, turning to the right at the top and then
went down at a brisker pace, Roy wishing his sweater wasn't quite so
heavy. All the spring had gone from his feet now and the exhilaration
was forgotten. It was just hard work. The downward slope lasted for
quite a way and Roy judged that Pryor was letting himself out in the
hope of reaching the road again before the others who had kept to it
arrived. There was a bad bit of brush to struggle through, and then came
the wall and the road. As they climbed over they looked backward, but
only a farmer's wagon was in sight.

"Beat 'em!" gasped Chub.

On the road they slowed down considerably and Roy gave silent thanks. He
knew now that he would never be able to keep up with Chub and the
others, but he was determined to stick it out as long as he could.
Presently a little group of buildings came into sight ahead; a store, a
blacksmith shop, a tumble-down shed and three houses. Mr. Buckman was
awaiting them in front of the store, supported by the storekeeper and a
handful of loungers.

"Are we ahead?" shouted Pryor as they came up. "Yes, and ahead of the
record," was the answer. "All right, Pryor. All right, Rogers, Eaton and
Porter."

Then they were past, trotting along a frosty, rutted country road.

"Anyone want the lead?" grunted Pryor.

"How about you, Roy?" asked Jack.

But Roy shook his head dumbly and Chub moved up to the head of the
group. The wind had increased and was blowing icily out of the
n